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STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 







ONE AGONIZED HOWL 


AND CAN VANISHED BENEATH 


THE PONDEROUS FEET. 



STORIES OF THE FIRST 

AMERICAN ANIMALS 

‘By 

GEORGE LANGFORD, 

' Colored Illustrations by Ty Mahon 



BONI and LIVERIGHT 

Publishers :: New York 


Ocyjj^H 




















I a* 

i V'" 


7 


Copyright, 1923, 
by 

BONI & LIVERIGHT, Inc. 


Printed in the United States of America 


NOV 17 ?3 


©C1A7 5987G ^ 





Dedication 


To the Memory of My Father 
Augustine G. Langford 





Contents 



PAGE 

179 

141 


100 


65 


39 


1 


Ideal section of the Earth’s surface showing hozv in the past three million 
years or more, during the Age of Mammals, the rocks have accumulated 

to a thickness of over four miles. 





















































COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS 


Facing page 

One agonized howl and Can vanished beneath the ponder¬ 
ous feet . Frontispiece 

Launching the “Ship of the Desert”. 98 

The Queen Shark wriggled with delight.134 

“A live Tapir is better than a dead Pig”.174 

The young Mastodon drew nearer, sniffing the air.206 

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

“Where have you been?” Old Grump demanded. 5 

An odd-looking creature was running about in the 

grass . 11 

“I see you, little rascal,” bellowed the creature in a deep 

voice . 17 

Jack and the Duck-billed Dinosaur . 21 

The Fat Party stopped moving and gazed languidly 

about him. 25 

At the sight of the tiny Mammal the eyes of the Dinosaur 

King nearly started from his head. 29 

The arrest of Oxena . 51 

The arrival of the Bear Cats. 57 

“Some strangers are intruding in the park”. 69 

“He must be deaf,” thought the little Camel. 73 

The Giant Pigs rebuff the plains folk. 75 

Poebro pursued by the Sabre Cat.81 

The Titan Beast’s anger began to cool. 93 

The stranger meets the two birds.107 

Sula taunts the King Whale .117 

The whale envoys call upon Manatus.123 

[ix] 























LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

A host of lithe fish-like forms loomed in the translucent 

depths before him.131 

He veered sharply and leaped .147 

Toto halted high and dry upon the bank.153 

Toto backed hastily out of the hole and looked about 

him.159 

Death of the Giraffe Camel.-.171 

The new arrival .187 

Mammut was compelled to play alone.193 

Suddenly a low voice hissed angrily.197 

Mammut is helped upon the march.201 

Aiding with sight and smell to watch over and lead the 

herd .211 

Mammut meets Lotor, the Raccoon.223 

Mammut meets the Deer Moose ...237 














GENERAL INTRODUCTION 


T HE laws of Nature are the same now as when Life began 
upon the Earth. Not one drop of water or grain of sand 
has been lost or gained. But the story of animal life is 
one of many changes, a panorama of constant progress upward 
from humble to higher forms, finally resulting in an exalted 
type—Man. 

One hundred million years ago—a prodigiously long time 
that can only be guessed at—the land of our world was bare of 
stirring life and the water contained only the simplest of creatures 
resembling tiny globules of gelatine. After a long, long time 
there appeared flabby molluscs living in shells, sponges, corals, 
crab-like trilobites and many other sea-dwellers of lowly form. 
Fishes were slow in coming hut their arrival marked a great 
change in the progress of animal life, for they were the first 
vertebrates or creatures with spinal columns and bony skeletons. 
They had gills or clefts behind their jaws which enabled them 
to breathe under water, hut in time some of them acquired cavities 
in their bodies which served as lungs so that they could sustain 
life when stranded on sandbars or when receding waters left 
them high and dry upon mudflats. No doubt many learned to 
flop their way overland from pool to pool and thus began a new 
order of lizard and toad-like beings, the Amphibians with short 
feeble legs in place of fins. They had gills at birth and lived for 
a time like fishes, but when grown up the gills fell into disuse 
and lungs served instead. They crawled out of the water to 
waddle about and such was the beginning of land animals. 

[xi] 


GENERAL INTRODUCTION 


Reptiles appeared next. They had no gills and their internal 
organs were more complicated than those of the Amphibians. 
Their cold slimy bodies were covered with scales or plates. Evi¬ 
dently the world was then very attractive to reptiles, for they 
prospered and multiplied until earth, sea and sky were overrun 
with them. Some went back to the old water life, while others 
waddled about on land and still others developed skin wings 
which enabled them to glide through the air or flutter about like 
big bats. 

s Bird life began, for birds were originally members of the 
reptile family that had learned how to fly. Dinosaurs, however, 
were the largest and most abundant of the reptiles. Their brains 
were ridiculously small compared with their huge and ungainly 
bodies and they possessed little or no intelligence. The age of 
Reptiles lasted for millions of years and then for some unknown 
reason, it ended. The Dinosaurs and their kind passed away, leav¬ 
ing only a few crocodiles, turtles and lizards as reminders of their 
former greatness. Meanwhile a new order of creatures had ap¬ 
peared in the world. Their bodies, unlike those of reptiles, were 
warm to the touch and covered with hair. These were the Mam¬ 
mals, very small and timid at first, and of very primitive type, 
distantly related to reptiles. These, the Marsupials, are now 
represented by our opossum and kangaroo. They were fol¬ 
lowed by True Mammals which, from small and inconspicuous 
forms, developed into highly specialized and diversified types 
with comparatively large brains. With the Age of Mammals 
began the Power of Mind. Man was the latest arrival. Until 
about fifty thousand years ago, he attracted little attention and 
not until thousands of years later did he become powerful enough 
to assume the mastery over all living things. Such in brief 
is the ancient animal life history of the world. 

[ xii ] 


GENERAL INTRODUCTION 


The Age of Mammals or Era of Modern Life, has been 
divided into five periods. Beginning with the oldest, these are: 

Eocene or Dawn Recent 

Oligocene “ Little “ 

Miocene “ Less “ 

Pliocene “ More “ 

Pleistocene “ Most ** 

Each period marks a pronounced change in the upward prog¬ 
ress of animal life. The evidence is to be found in rocks, compact 
layers of sand, gravel, clay and other earthy materials spread out 
one upon another by wind, water or volcanic action, gradually 
rising to hundreds and even thousands of feet in thickness and 
preserving within them the remains of such animals and plants as 
existed while the layers were accumulating. 

Today, wind and water action together with other forces of 
Nature, have worn or cut away these same rocks, exposing their 
contents, so that from the animal and plant remains a history can 
be written of the life that was. 

The bones of ancient animals being petrified or changed to 
stone are usually found much broken and scattered, but the teeth 
are better preserved because of their hard enamel coats, a for¬ 
tunate circumstance, for an animal’s identity may best be learned 
from its teeth and often one gives the desired information. Bone¬ 
bearing rocks are found in all parts of the world. Those of 
North America, formed during the Age of Mammals, are best 
represented in the plains and “bad lands” regions west of the 
Mississippi River. “Bad lands” are once broad table lands cut 
up by deep gullies and other depressions into all sorts of queer 
shapes. From the slopes of buttes, bluffs and hills, protrude the 
animal and plant remains which determine the period in which 

[ xiii ] 


GENERAL INTRODUCTION 


each series of rocks was formed. Once any form of life passed 
out of existence, its like never recurred. This unfailing law of 
Nature has made it possible for us to recognize each period of the 
Age of Mammals by noting the disappearance of old animal types 
and the occurrence of new ones. The rocks themselves give 
much information, for when the deposits of one period lie upon 
another, those below being laid down first are of course the oldest. 
Conditions did not favor the accumulation of rocks representing 
the five periods of the Age of Mammals all in one place, for this 
would have resulted in a veritable Tower of Babel at least five 
miles high. The accumulations of two periods and only parts at 
that are the most that can be hoped for in any one locality, but 
their relative positions and comparisons of animal remains em¬ 
bedded in them, establish their ages and by repeating this method 
of studying other bone-bearing localities, time-values are estab¬ 
lished and even though widely separated, the rocks of each period 
become arranged in their proper order. Each scattered and tom 
leaf then becomes part of a book; a record of the rocks entitled 
The Age of Mammals. 

To read this hook, one must have some understanding of its 
rather strange language, for it deals with tremendously long 
periods and tells of animals whose like cannot be found in the 
world today. Land-levels, vegetation and climate were different 
too. Mountains and great rivers were yet unborn. The arid 
plains of today were the jungles of old. Could we go back in 
time and travel over the United States, our country would appear 
an unknown and remote region. Strange animals were moving 
from place to place in search of suitable food and accommo¬ 
dations. All of them possessed the inborn power to adapt them¬ 
selves to various conditions and to live the lives that suited them 
best. Some did not properly exercise this power and finally 

[ xiv 1 


GENERAL INTRODUCTION 


ceased to exist while others improved their positions in various 
ways. Enterprising creatures like the camel and horse developed 
teeth and feet enabling them to change from fertile low¬ 
land dwellers to inhabitants of the gradually broadening arid 
plains, thereby securing new feeding grounds and avoiding the 
competition and enmity of other animals. A few, like the tapir, 
served their ends by plunging into thick jungles and leading 
lives of retirement. Every creature had its own way of trying to 
live and grow. None of them was thrown into the world with¬ 
out resource. All were sown like seeds with the power to shift 
their positions to such soil as best suited their healthful develop¬ 
ment. Every last one of them was given a chance and even those 
who failed, lived long lives and their disappearance was most 
gradual. Man has changed all this. His civilization has proven 
more destructive to Mammals than hunger, cold, disease and all 
other natural agencies put together. Those unwilling to become 
his slaves are being rapidly exterminated. The Age of Mammals 
has ended and we are now living in the Age of Man, 


[xv] 



STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 
JOCK THE JUNGLE JINX 
INTRODUCTION 

In Miles County, Montana, and Converse County, Wyo¬ 
ming, near Hell Creek and Lance Creek, respectively, are great 
beds of sandstone filled with bones and plant impressions which 
tell of when the Age of Reptiles ended and the Age of Mammals 
began. These now desolate wastes were then clad in luxurious 
vegetation, the climate and altitude being favorable to the growth 
of fig, banana and palm trees. Here lived a mighty race of rep¬ 
tiles, the Dinosaurs. Some were flesh-eaters, with sabre-teeth, 
and bird-like feet, while others, with tiny teeth and beast-like 
hoofs, fed entirely upon plants. They somewhat resembled the 
dragons we read about in fairy stories, although except for the 
flesh-eaters, they must have been quite harmless. Most of them 
were huge and dull-witted, and spent their time eating and grow¬ 
ing fat. Nobody knows just what happened, but these great, 
hulking monsters suddenly disappeared, and all of the world’s 
great reptiles went with them. Such a wholesale and mysterious 
destruction of animals is without a parallel in ancient history. 
Something may have occurred wdiich made it harder for them to 
fill their big stomachs, leaving them to wither away. At any* 
rate, in the Hell Creek and Lance Creek sandstones is recorded 
their last appearance. 

These sandstones also tell of creatures other than dinosaurs. 
There were turtles, lizards, fishes and small land animals covered 


1 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


with hair. The latter were mammals of a primitive order, known 
as marsupials. Although small-bodied, their brains were com¬ 
paratively large, and they were alert and active, compared 'with 
the dull-witted and slow-moving dinosaurs about them. 

In the San Juan region of northern New Mexico are rocks 
containing bones of dinosaurs similar to those of Hell Creek and 
Lance Creek. On top of them are more rocks, 800 feet thick, 
filled with bones of marsupials and a few true mammals, but no 
dinosaurs whatever, and on the top of this second series are still 
more rocks, minus dinosaurs and marsupials, and containing only 
the remains of true mammals. 

An important succession of animal life is thus established. 
The Age of Reptiles below, the Age of Mammals above, with 
marsupials yielding their place to true mammals in the topmost 
of the three deposits. It is from such records that we learn much 
concerning the progress of ancient animal life. 


2 


JOCK THE JUNGLE JINX 


I 


To begin with, Jock was not a squirrel, although at a distance 
he did resemble one somewhat because of his long bushy tail. 
He lived in the Jungle; a damp, gloomy place, where the sun¬ 
light never came. It was his home, and he knew no other. To 
him it meant the world, and there could be nothing else beyond. 

J ock was small, but his brain was large in proportion to his 
body—a very important matter, if you but stop and think a 
moment. This may have been because he was a mammal—a 
warm-blooded creature with no taint of fish or reptile about him. 
Brains and Mammals were both scarce, for these were the days of 
slimy, crawling things—the Age of Dinosaurs. 

Jock’s most intimate friends were Mammals like himself. 
His neighbors were the Burrowers and Pouched Animals. It 
was whispered that they had a bit of the reptile about them, 
although to look at them nobody would imagine such a thing. 
They lived in burrows and under rotten logs, while the Mam¬ 
mals spent most of their time in the trees. Now it is a bad thing 
forever to hide in dark and damp places—bad for the health and 
morals, and a serious handicap to anyone wishing to get ahead 
in the world. 

Jock seemed to be the liveliest and cheeriest youngster in the 
Jungle; and yet, in spite of appearances, he was not really 
happy and contented. Tree-climbing gave him a view of the sun. 


3 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


He gloried in its light and warmth; and yet it was not a part 
of the Jungle, but a thing outside. This set him to thinking. 
He became restless and longed for something besides the gloom 
of the forest, which had always been his home. This feeling was 
shared more or less by his intimates; but the Burrowers and 
Pouched Animals frowned upon progressive notions. Old 
Grump, their leader, saw that Jock was growing fast. The 
time had come when the small Mammal must be told why things 
were so, and should remain so. Old Grump had always taken a 
serious and gloomy view of life. Never had he looked upon the 
sun. He would have feared his own shadow could he have but 
seen it. It was past midday, and Jock had just descended to 
the ground from the top of a tree after a period of sun-gazing. 
The leader of the Pouched Animals sat at the foot of it awaiting 
him. 

“Where have you been?” Old Grump demanded. 

Jock’s eyes sparkled. “As high as I could climb,” he said. 
“I was looking through the leaves at the warm shining ball and 
wishing that I could get closer to it.” 

Old Grump shook his head very solemnly. “It is as I feared,” 
he muttered in tones of strong disapproval. “Our world is grow¬ 
ing too small for you, and you wish to go out into the larger one. 
You must give up such notions. No good will come of them.” 

“Then there is a larger world somewhere,” observed our hero. 
“I suspected as much. I am so tired of this gloomy place. Why 
do we remain here?” 

The leader of the Pouched Animals shuddered. “It is well I 
spoke,” he said. “You might have done something rash, in which 
case nothing could have saved you from death.” 

Jock’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “Death? Why?” he 
inquired. 


4 



WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” OLD GRUMP DEMANDED. 



























































































































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“Because of the Dinosaurs. They own the whole outside 
world. If you venture forth they will destroy you.” 

“Dinosaurs? What are they?” 

Old Grump shivered and looked nervously about him. His 
voice sank almost to a whisper. “S-s-s! not so loud,” he said. 
“They are savage monsters, taller than the tallest trees. They 
infest every comer of the land, the waters and even the sky above. 
The largest and fiercest of them rules all other living things, 
with tooth and claw. He is a terrible creature, this Dinosaur 
King and Ruler of the World.” 

The old Pouched leader became almost dumb with fright as 
he told this, but Jock felt not at all afraid. What he heard 
merely sharpened his wits and aroused within him a consuming 
curiosity to learn more. “Wonderful,” he exclaimed. “But it 
seems to me that if these Dinosaurs are so very veiy big, we 
little animals might hide in their country as well as here. There 
must be holes and-” 

Old Grump almost collapsed. Never had he listened to such 
radical views. Mingled feelings of rage and terror almost 
overwhelmed him. Jock watched him with a half-curious, half- 
amused expression as he fumed and sputtered and finally found 
the use of his tongue. 

“Ur-r, um, ach! Bold, wicked words,” he said in a choking 
voice. “Who are you to question the opinions of your elders? 
If the Dinosaur King knew where we were hidden he would hunt 
out and destroy us. Not one of us could escape him.” 

With this parting warning Old Grump took himself off, 
glancing fearfully about him all the while and shaking his head. 
Finally he disappeared in a burrow, there to rest and calm his 
nerves. 

Jock was left alone, trembling, not with fear but with excite- 


6 



THE JUNGLE JINX 


ment, because of the glorious news he had just heard. There was 
a big world outside, and other animals dwelt in it. They might 
be terrible, and all that, but they could not be much worse to live 
with than deadly, stupid old fossils like the Pouched Animals 
who found no joy in life and never dared look for it. 

Jock went to bed supperless that night, for he was too excited 
to eat. He curled up and shut his eyes and tried to sleep. “The 
Dinosaur King, Ruler of the World,” kept running through his 
brain. Whenever he did doze off a few moments he dreamed of 
snapping and screeching monsters, and then woke up again. 

“No use my spending the night this way,” he thought. With 
that he sought the tallest tree he could find and climbed to the 
topmost branch. The moon’s rays shone faintly through the 
dense foliage above his head. Never had the Jungle seemed such a 
dungeon as it did then. Jock gazed at the moon through the 
leaves as a prisoner does through iron bars. 

Hark! What was that? The small Mammal pricked up his 
ears and listened again for that strange, distant cry. In a mo¬ 
ment it was repeated very faintly—a voice too far away to be 
distinctly heard. He held his breath, crouching, motionless, and 
again sounded the mysterious voice, an unearthly screech, such 
as had never before fallen upon his ears. 

“It may be the Dinosaur King,” he thought. “I wish I could 
meet him and learn why he rules the world, leaving so little for 
the rest of us.” 

Jock climbed higher. Never had he ventured so far aloft. 
The slender branches drooped beneath his weight. The moon 
shone brighter. The fresh air filled his lungs. Never had he so 
enjoyed himself, and it grew better the higher he climbed. 

At last he reached the end—the very top of the Jungle roof. 
The dazzling moonlight made him blink. The air was delicious, 

7 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


and then there were those distant cries. He gazed eagerly over 
the vast billowy expanse of green foliage. The light, the sweet 
forest fragrance intoxicated him. Ah! if he only dared. 

“Now or never,” something within him whispered. “Old 
Grump and the rest of those Jungle-dwellers will soon learn 
what you are doing and you may never get another chance like 
this.” 

That settled it. Jock took a deep breath and began crawling 
over the interlocking twigs and leaves. It was difficult getting 
started, but once having made up his mind he found it easier and 
kept going. Away he went over the Jungle roof, stopping now 
and then to look and listen and make certain that he was going 
in the direction of the distant cries. He had to be careful, too, 
just where he stepped, for a slip would have meant a bad tumble 
to somewhere far beneath. It w r as all so intensely interesting and 
exciting, and he did not feel a bit frightened. Toward morning 
the trees began to thin out, leaving large gaps in the Jungle roof. 
Several times Jock was obliged to seek the ground, cross the open 
spaces and climb up again. This caused him considerable delay; 
also it made him tired. The ground beneath was now fairly clear 
of underbrush and other obstructions. Jock finally descended to 
earth and stayed there. 

A new and wonderful country opened before him—a delight¬ 
ful country and worth ten times the trouble he had taken to reach 
it. There was none of the gloom and mustiness that prevailed in 
the depths of the Jungle. The air was charged with the same 
freshness he had first experienced among the topmost tree leaves; 
also with another new and most inviting aroma which reminded 
him that he was hungry. He gazed about him to learn what 
caused that enticing smell. 

It was then he saw something—new, of course. Everything 


8 


THE JUNGLE JINX 


was new and wonderful. In the distance, through the trees, he 
made out a vast blue expanse—a sky upside down. He could 
faintly distinguish a thin hazy line where the upper and lower 
sides met each other. Earth and trees ended in the near distance. 
It would seem that he had about reached the edge of the world 
without meeting a single dinosaur. And then, just when he had 
about made up his mind to go on and at least have a look over 
the edge of the world, swish! flop! something made a great com¬ 
motion above his head. He looked up quickly, then ducked as a 
dark cloud descended upon him. Head over heels he rolled and 
tumbled into a burrow which chanced to yawn in his path. It all 
happened so suddenly that he had no time to think of anything 
except that a hole was a good place to be in while trouble was 
going on. In a moment he had righted himself and was peering 
out of his refuge. An odd-looking creature was running about 
through the grass. It had two legs only, also two feathered 
wings. Suddenly it caught sight of Jock’s head and made a rush 
in that direction. Back popped the head into the hole. 

“Come out of there, little rascal,” screeched a voice. Jock 
looked up and saw the unknown gazing down upon him. Its 
mouth, or rather bill, was wide open, showing four rows of sharp 
teeth. It would have done better to have kept its mouth shut. 
Jock saw those teeth and decided to stay where he was. A 
thought struck him. “Are you the Ruler of the World?” he 
asked eagerly. 

“The which?” 

“Ruler of the World, King of the Dinosaurs, or whatever 
else you call yourself.” 

“Grawk! I am the Reptile Bird, if that is what you mean,” 
the other replied. “As for you, come out of that hole at once. I 


9 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

have had nothing to eat since this morning and am nearly 
starved.” 

“Since this morning?” Jock glanced at the sky. The day had 
scarcely begun. “You won’t eat me,” he chuckled. “I refuse 
to move unless you are the Dinosaur King. I came here to see 
him.” 

“And you won’t come out?” 

“Not unless you are the Dinosaur King,” Jock replied 
firmly. 

The Reptile Bird was greatly displeased. “Very well,” he 
said in a hurt voice. “I refuse to speak to you any more,” and 
with that he turned rudely away. Jock saw his long feathered 
tail disappear through the grass. When it seemed safe to do so 
he crawled from his refuge and moved on again toward the edge 
of the world and that sky upside down. The forest finally ended. 
The ground sloped gradually downward and disappeared, not in 
space, but in plain, ordinary water. Jock learned this when he 
ran down to the earth’s jumping-off place to look over the edge. 
His feet splashed into a cool liquid. He put his mouth to it and 
made a wry face. The liquid tasted hitter. That sky upside 
down was salt water—a lagoon or inland sea. Its vastness stag¬ 
gered him. The world seemed to be made of water as well as land. 

A ball of light shone in his face. It was brilliant and warm 
and rising from the lagoon. Another one hung in the sky 
directly over it. There were two great shining balls in the coun¬ 
try of the Dinosaurs. 

Jock sat down upon the beach to look and listen and smell all 
the new and interesting things. “And so this is the Dinosaur 
country. I wish my people could see it,” he thought. “When 
they do, good-by to the Jungle forever.” He sat there for some 
time, dazed, enraptured, overwhelmed by the new world’s attrac- 


10 



AN ODD LOOKING CREATURE WAS RUNNING ABOUT IN 

THE GRASS 




























































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


tions. His eyes vied with his nose, telling him of the wonders 
about him. The beach extended in a huge semicircle on both 
sides of where he sat. It was a broad ribbon of nice, clean sand. 
Clumps of rushes and plants grew from the water’s edge; on the 
land side were many trees. Something resembling a large green 
stone lay upon the beach on his right. To the left of it was a 
log with a long dark object on top of it. His eyes were busy 
telling him these things when all at once his nose broke in ’with 
news of the delightfully fragrant smell that had before made 
him feel so hungry. It also told him something else—not so 
pleasant. The Dinosaurs might be hiding somewhere near, for 
the air smelled strongly of animals. 

Jock gazed cautiously about him. That green stone had a 
suspicious odor. He crept toward it and was about to take a 
sniff when something shot out from beneath the stone. A pair 
of horny jaws clicked together within an inch of his nose. Jock 
jumped back and sat down upon the sand at a safe distance. The 
creature seemed to have no feet, although it was plain to be seen 
that it possessed a head and tail. 

“Are you the Dinosaur King?” the little Mammal made bold 
to inquire. 

No answer. The Soft-shelled Turtle—for it was he—kept 
perfectly still and watched Jock out of his cold, wicked eyes. 
He was waiting for another chance, but our hero suspected as 
much and did not give it to him. 

“I don’t believe he hears me,” thought Jock. “Probably be¬ 
cause he has no ears.” He repeated his question, but received no 
reply, and meanwhile the Soft-shelled Turtle never moved. 
“Probably he grows out of the ground,” the little Mammal finally 
determined. “No animal could walk with such a big stone on his 
back. At any rate, he cannot be the Dinosaur King.” 


12 


THE JUNGLE JINX 


He was walking away from the Soft-shelled Turtle when his 
nose caught another animal odor. It came from the log lying 
half on the beach, half in the water. The dark object stretched 
full-length upon it was another creature—a lizard, with a long, 
thin snout and a long, thick tail, something like a small crocodile, 
although with fish-like gills and nostrils at the very tip of its nose. 
It was the Crocodile Lizard. The reptile was asleep, basking 
comfortably in the warm rays of the morning sun. 

Jock coughed noisily to make his presence known, whereupon 
the Crocodile Lizard slowly opened its eyes and gazed solemnly 
at the small intruder. 

“Are you the Ruler of the World?” Jock inquired very 
politely. 

This must have seemed an odd question to the Crocodile 
Lizard. He answered never a word. 

“Deaf, I suppose,” thought the little Mammal. “He, too, has 
no ears,” and with that he hopped closer. As he did so the un¬ 
known’s long jaws opened very slowly and almost imperceptibly, 
but Jock got a glimpse of the sharp teeth in them and was on his 
guard. However, he forgot to watch the reptile’s tail. This had 
gradually curled itself into a bow. Swish! it let loose like a cata¬ 
pult, but Jock was just a bit too quick for it. Up he sprang in 
mid-air and the blow cleaved the air beneath him. 

Once beyond striking range, Jock walked leisurely away, for 
he could see that the Crocodile Lizard, like the Soft-shelled Turtle, 
was too slow and clumsy to catch him. Neither of them could 
be the Ruler of the World. A real King would be up and about 
instead of lying around doing nothing. 

Jock resumed his way, keeping back among the trees, for 
there was no telling what more creatures might be lying upon the 
beach. Suddenly he stopped. His nose brought more news: not 


13 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


an animal odor, but the original sweet smell—something of un¬ 
usual fragrance suggesting food. Sniff, sniff; his nostrils swelled 
and wiggled until finally they located the origin of that enticing 
smell. It was a huge cluster of yellow fruit hanging high above 
his head. Jock had never met a banana, but his trusty nose told 
him to climb that tree and get acquainted. This he did in quick 
time. A moment later and he was perched upon the banana 
cluster, tearing one loose and eating it, skin and all. Um, yum! 
it was certainly delicious, and so much of it. Jock could hardly 
hold it up in his two hands. Between bites he looked about him 
and noticed that other trees also bore fruit; bananas, figs, nuts 
and more bananas and more nuts and—well, Jock’s mouth 
watered at the sight and smell, but his stomach was now strained 
to the bursting point. One banana had stuffed him full. 

He descended to the ground and continued along the edge of 
the beach. He moved slowly now, for every step gave him dis¬ 
comfort—this because of the banana that filled his paunch. 

“Oo, what a pain,” he groaned. “It was so good, but I ate 
too much.” 

There was nothing left to do but find a bed somewhere and 
rest until his food had time to digest. Seeing a hollow stump 
nearby he crept into that and curled himself into a ball. He had 
scarcely closed his eyes when he heard a noise outside—a cry 
coming from far out in the lagoon; so he crawled from his refuge 
in all haste, for it might be that the noise was made by one of 
the terrible Dinosaurs, possibly the Ruler of the World himself. 


II 

Jock found walking a difficult matter because of the banana 


14 


THE JUNGLE JINX 


within him, which was rapidly asserting itself. He had about 
made up his mind to retrace Iris steps when he heard a second dis¬ 
tant cr3" like the first one. As he looked over the watery expanse 
he caught sight of an object floating upon the surface of the 
lagoon. It was far away, and a mere speck, hut Jock knew it to 
be an animal of some sort. It moved; in fact, everything inside 
and out of him seemed to be moving just then. However, his 
discomfort had not yet become acute enough to dull his interest 
in the distant, floating object. There was a huge boulder lying 
upon the beach. It would make a fine lookout, so Jock went to it 
and began climbing up. This latter was a difficult process. There 
were all sorts of bumps and things to cling to, but as soon as he 
touched them they began wiggling in all directions. This move¬ 
ment of the surface was soon communicated to the mass until the 
whole boulder was rocking and tossing like a ship in a stormy sea. 
By the time our hero arrived at the top he was too dizzy to stand. 
Cold perspiration oozed from his every pore. “Oh, I am so sick,” 
he groaned dismally. “I wish I hadn’t climbed up here. I want 
to get down.” 

At this the wiggling stopped instantly. Jock saw one end 
of the mass beneath him turn partly around. An eye gazed in 
his direction. A frog-mouth gaped beneath the eye. Jock gasped 
and held his breath. The boulder was a huge animal, at whose 
head he now gazed as he stood upon its back. 

“I see you, little rascal,” bellowed the creature in a deep 
voice. “You want to get down? Good; I wish you would.” 

Jock thought he surely must be dreaming, although he was 
feeling too sick just then to care much about anything. He 
started over the paved back, slipped on one of the knobs and dug 
liis nails in the crevices to keep from falling. The creature began 
wiggling again like one possessed. 


15 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“The bumps! Keep on the bumps,” it squealed. “You tickle 
me so when you touch the creases.” 

Jock tried his hardest to be agreeable, but he was too dizzy to 
steer a straight course, and his feet simply refused to stay on the 
slippery knobs. A renewed volley of wiggles sent him tumbling 
to the ground. This seeming disaster proved his salvation, for it 
made him disgorge the banana—a sure cure for biliousness. The 
world stopped spinning around and Jock felt able to examine his 
new acquaintance—a most genial creature, judging by his ac¬ 
tions. He was squirming and giggling just as anyone would do 
when tickled under the ribs. “Oh, my back! My sides!” he 
squealed. 

“Are you a Dinosaur?” Jock inquired. “Never in my life 
have I seen an animal as large as you.” 

“No?” the creature appeared greatly surprised. “I thought 
myself quite small; probably because I do not get enough to eat. 
Y r ou are very little. You must be starved.” He looked at Jock 
as though he really felt sorry for him. 

“Whew!” our hero screwed up his face. “I hope I may never 
see food again. But you—are you a Dinosaur?” 

“Certainly. Everybody knows me, Ankylus the Armored 
Dinosaur, always ready for fun and frolic, be it eating or 
sleeping.” 

“Are you the Dinosaur King?” Jock asked eagerly. He 
thought himself nearing his goal at last. 

“King? No, indeed,” was the answer. “Nobody with claws 
and teeth like mine could be the king. It is my duty to amuse 
him.” 

“Amuse him? How?” 

“When he is cross,” Ankylus chuckled. “You know, he is 
always cross. He jumps on me and tries to bite his way through 


16 



"I SEE YOU, LITTLE RASCAL,” BELLOWED THE CREATURE 

IN A DEEP VOICE 


















































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


the plate on my back. Perhaps this does not amuse him exactly, 
but it keeps him busy and interested. I will show you how my 
part is done.” 

Plis fat sides shook good-naturedly as he said this. He 
squatted close to the ground, drawing in his head and legs like 
a turtle. In this attitude he was about as accessible as a walnut. 
The mailed coat shielded his back, while the ground prevented any 
attack on his unarmored parts beneath. 

“Clever, indeed,” remarked our hero. “But if I were the 
Dinosaur King I would roll you over and eat you out of your 
shell.” 

Ankylus turned sickly green. His fat sides trembled. “Ugh! 
What’s that? Eat me out of my shell? If you value my friend¬ 
ship, make no mention of such a thing to anyone. I would be 
ruined if our King had it suggested to him. A terrible idea! I 
feel faint; I must have nourishment.” 

The monster, after much effort, raised his belly several inches 
from the ground and dragged himself down to a clump of plants 
growing near the water’s edge. The food question made him 
forget his fears entirely. Having a head no bigger than his foot 
and not enough room in it for two ideas at once, he proceeded to 
gorge himself. While so doing he forgot all about the Dinosaur 
King, Jock and everybody else. 

“Big eater that,” the little Mammal remarked as he watched 
the huge reptile gulping down bales of green stuff unchewed. 
“No wonder he is so big and clumsy. Ah, me; what a life!” 

He was sitting there wondering if all dinosaurs were so stupid 
and ungainly as this one, when suddenly he caught sight of some¬ 
thing coming through the water farther down the shore. 

“Another one!” Jock remembered the speck he had first seen 
far out in the lagoon. He had forgotten all about it in his meet- 


18 


THE JUNGLE JINX 


ing with the Armored Dinosaur. Perhaps the newcomer was the 
Ruler of the World. He would go and see, so away he scam¬ 
pered and waited on the beach in front of the floating object as it 
swam toward him. 

The object in question turned out to be a gigantic duck-like 
head, and there was much more in the water beneath it. Suddenly 
it arose from the shallows and a huge body appeared, floundering 
and splashing among the lily-pads and other plants growing near 
the water’s edge. The duck-head towered five yards high as the 
monster emerged upon dry ground at last and sat down upon the 
beach, using his gigantic hind limbs and long, heavy tail as a 
three-legged stool. His front limbs were ridiculously small com¬ 
pared with the hind ones. Although a water reptile, his toes and 
fingers were tipped with blunt hoofs instead of claws. The huge 
creature was in the act of scratching the back of his head with one 
hand when he caught sight of the tiny Mammal sitting far be¬ 
neath him. 

“Who—what are you?” he asked in surprise. 

“I am a stranger here,” Jock shouted at the top of his lungs 
so that his voice might reach the other’s ears, wherever they might 
be. “I have come to see the Dinosaur King who rules the world. 
Are you he?” 

“No,” replied the monster emphatically. “I am a Dinosaur, 
but not the king. They call me the Duck Bill. And so you are 
to meet our King. How distressing! However, that is your af¬ 
fair—not mine.” 

“Why? Do you know him?” 

“Too well for my own comfort,” hissed the Duck Bill. “He 
would eat me, hoofs, hide and all if I gave him the chance.” 

“What! eat a big thing like you?” Jock exclaimed. “He must 
he very large and fierce.” 


19 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“He certainly is,” the monster declared. He glanced about 
him in a nervous manner as he said this. His bald pate glistened 
in the sunlight. It looked more like a green squash than a head. 
No ears were visible—mere holes where ears ought to have been. 

“How odd,” thought Jock. “None of these animals seem to 
have ears. I wonder what they hear with.” 

“I would suggest that you use caution in your dealings with 
our King,” the Duck Bill now said. “I feel an interest in you 
because you do not seem disposed to harm me.” 

“Harm you?” Jock wondered if he could have heard aright. 
The very idea of his harming such a giant seemed inexpressibly 
funny. “No, I would not hurt you for anything,” he chuckled. 

The Duck-billed Dinosaur appeared greatly relieved. “I am 
so glad to hear you say that,” he said gratefully. “Our King 
feels differently about such matters. He is a flesh-eater and—if 
you will pardon my frankness—he would eat you without a mo¬ 
ment’s hesitation. I disapprove strongly of the way he selects 
his food. I am a vegetable-eater, and would not treat you as he 
would. I never eat bugs.” 

“I am not a bug,” cried our hero, flaring up. 

“I meant a caterpillar,” corrected the Duck Bill, much em¬ 
barrassed. 

“Nor a caterpillar, either,” shouted Jock in a great rage. 

“No?” The monster appeared genuinely astonished. “How 
odd; you must be something. Nobody can be nothing. You are 
all covered with fuzz; so is a caterpillar. My skin is smooth and 
scaly; therefore, I am not a caterpillar. Are you a plant?” This 
query was delivered in a trembling voice. The Duck Bill’s fore¬ 
head wrinkled with anxiety. 

“No, I am not a plant,” snapped our hero. The giant hissed 
a great sigh of relief. “Good!” he exclaimed. “I fairly dote on 


20 



JOCK AND THE DUCK-BILLED DINOSAUR 




























STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


plants—nice green ones; but it would break my heart if I were 
compelled to eat you.” He glanced at the water behind him. 
“Lily stems! Um-yum! I will gather a few now if you do not 
mind. I have had not a bite to eat since I first met you. Keep 
right on talking. I can hear every Word you say.” With that 
he waded into the shallows and began shoveling about in the mud 
with his spade-like bill. 

Jock watched this latter process with much interest. “What 
do you do besides eat?” he inquired. 

“Sleep,” answered the Duck Bill with his mouth full. “I do 
that until it is time to wake up and eat some more.” 

“And having eaten-” 

“I go to sleep again,” replied the monster. “It keeps me busy 
doing all these things, but I see no help for it.” 

“No, I cannot see just where you have any fun,” Jock re¬ 
marked after a moment’s thought. “Seems to me you would get 
more out of life if you did not eat and sleep so much.” 

“Im-practical,” declared the Duck Bill in his most positive 
manner. “Eat when the weather is warm; sleep when it is cool. 
Everybody does that way.” 

“What if the weather stays cool?” 

“Stay asleep,” replied the monster, well pleased with himself 
at having so ready an answer. Jock was silent for a few mo¬ 
ments. Why argue with this big good-natured beast? He be¬ 
thought himself of what he had come for and changed the sub¬ 
ject. “Where will I find the Dinosaur King?” he asked. 

“Well, if you insist upon meeting him, keep right on,” was 
the answer. “When you hear an awful noise and see the most 
terrible tiling you ever saw in all your life, you will have met him. 
I would take you to him, but I prefer eating to being eaten.” 


22 



THE JUNGLE JINX 


“May you stuff yourself and sleep until your dying day,” 
said Jock, waving a paw in farewell. 

The Duck Bill paused long enough in his feeding to bestow 
upon our hero a look of unutterable gratitude, then he turned 
again to the plants, and that was the last Jock saw of the Duck¬ 
billed Dinosaur. 

As our hero went his way along the shore of the lagoon he 
heard no awful noises and saw nothing so terrible that it could be 
mistaken for a dinosaur king, although he soon encountered an 
animal, the most remarkable creature he had ever beheld. 

Standing among the tall rushes which grew thickly near the 
water’s edge was a huge monster over six yards long. Its body 
was a wobbly globe supported by four pillar limbs. A ponderous 
alligator tail trailed along behind it. The most remarkable part 
of the creature was its head, which was more than half as long as 
its body. This head spread out behind like a frilled cape, cover¬ 
ing the neck and shoulders. Two horns, each a yard long, pro¬ 
jected directly over the eyes. A third and shorter one sprouted 
from between the nostrils like the horn of a rhinoceros. The front 
of the mouth terminated in a parrot-like beak. The monster was 
astonishing rather than terrible to look upon; furthermore, it 
made no fearful noise. It was making some sounds—a subdued 
lamentation. As Jock came closer, to his amazement, he saw that 
the creature was weeping—actually crying as though its heart 
would break. Real tears poured down its face and formed a pud¬ 
dle on the ground beneath. 

J ock mounted a cobblestone where he could sit out of the wet 
and look on. “What are such creatures made for?” he wondered. 
“Even a dinosaur must be good for something; and yet I cannot 
see- Hi-ho!” he suddenly cried out in alarm as the unknowm 


23 



STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


lurched in his direction. “Be careful there. Look where you are 
going.” 

The Fat Party stopped moving and gazed languidly about 
him. Finally he caught sight of Jock, whereat his vast body 
trembled like a bowl of wine jelly. His weeping became so vio¬ 
lent that it seemed as though the whole mass of flesh would shake 
itself to pieces. 

“Have no fear,” Jock shouted to reassure him. “I will not 
hurt you. Now be a good dinosaur and stop crying. What is 
the trouble?” 

Vainly the poor creature strove to check his sobs and tears. 
“Lost,” he wailed dismally. “Oh, dear! poor little me. Never 
will it return to me again.” 

Jock glanced all around him but saw nothing that might be 
considered as a dinosaur’s particular property. When he 
looked again at the unfortunate, he was much pleased, for the 
latter had ceased weeping and was fast recovering his control. 

“I do believe it is coming back again,” he said hopefully. “I 
am sure it is coming back. I feel it.” 

“What did you lose?” asked Jock. 

“My appetite. I was eating and suddenly, for some unknown 
reason, I stopped. It was terrible.” 

“Appetite?” our hero nearly tumbled off his perch, he was so 
surprised. 

“Perhaps I was unduly nervous,” the monster explained. 
“And yet it is so hard to get along these days. Food is not as 
plentiful as it was, and then the nights are so cold. It makes me 
ill to think about it. Do I look thin and haggard?” 

“Not thin, exactly,” Jock chuckled. “In fact, you appear 
to me quite hale and hearty. I was just wondering what all your 


24 



- — 

THE FAT PARTY STOPPED MOVING AND GAZED LANGUIDLY 

ABOUT HIM 









































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


horns are for, and that thing on the back of your head—what do 
you do with it?” 

“Nothing, absolutely nothing,” was the answer. “I wear 
those things because I have to. Now if you will excuse me, I 
must eat and take my nap so as to be perfectly fresh and rested 
for the next meal.” 

“You are a Dinosaur of course,” said the little Mammal. “I 
suppose, too, that you do nothing but eat and sleep.” 

“Ah, but you are wrong,” replied the other sadly. “I am the 
Three-horned Dinosaur, but I have much more to do than is good 
for me. I walk and I swim. These require tremendous effort; 
but how can they be avoided? Food cannot come to me, so I 
must go to it. Would that I could lie down and have somebody 
feed me the rest of my life; then I never need move.” 

“That would give you plenty of time to think,” Jock re¬ 
marked thoughtfully, “and probably if you got to thinking you 
would see the need of stirring about and taking more exercise.” 

“Think, think?” the monster repeated dully. “What is there 
to think about?” 

“Particularly when you have nothing to think with,” Jock 
added in a v tone of biting sarcasm. “Probably if you stopped 
eating long enough to think a moment you would starve to 
death.” 

“Without question,” the Dinosaur agreed. “If anything in¬ 
terfered with my eating and sleeping I would perish.” 

“And it is fools such as this that drive my people into the 
Jungle, away from the land of joy and plenty,” thought our hero. 
“What would this clumsy beast do if he were forced into a corner 
and had to fight?” 

Sis! boom! agh! A terrible commotion ensued at that moment 
among the forest trees; screams, hisses, bellows and the crash- 

26 


THE JUNGLE JINX 


ing of branches. Pandemonium had broken loose. The Three¬ 
horned Dinosaur turned in a panic and waddled into the lagoon 
as fast as his unwieldy body would permit. “The King!” he 
shrieked. “The Tyrant Reptile King!” Away he floundered 
and splashed until the water covered all but his eyes, nose and 
projecting horns. Then he stopped and remained motionless. 

The tumult in the forest grew rapidly louder and nearer. 
Suddenly a thunderous voice bellowed: “Where is he? I smell 
flesh, and I will have it.” 

Jock glanced at that part of the Three-horned Dinosaur 
which remained above water. The fugitive had heard the re¬ 
marks and considered them too personal to suit him, for he had 
a sudden fit of shivers, judging by the ripples and eddies about 
him. 

The cries and disturbance in the woods had by this time in¬ 
creased tenfold. Suddenly there arose a perfect bedlam of 
screams and bellows and a gigantic monster burst into the open, 
uttering terrible noises and snapping its great jaws. To Jock, 
who had come to consider all Dinosaurs as huge, helpless creatures, 
here was a sight fearful to behold. 

The colossal reptile head towered far above the trees. The 
jaws bristled with gleaming sabre teeth. The gnarled hide hung 
over the vast body in folds and creases. The long, heavily mus¬ 
cled legs contrasted strangely with the feeble arms. Each clawed 
—not hoofed—foot covered a square yard. The rear of the body 
tapered off in a long, thick tail, which thrashed about like a flail, 
felling small trees and mowing down the underbrush. The blood¬ 
shot eyes, "widely gaping jaws and murderous teeth could have 
found no equal for hate and fury. 

Jock s^w. and cowered in mortal fear. No need to ask. Here 
was the one he sought. The Ruler of the World stood before 

27 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMAES 


him. “Woe is me,” he groaned. “I have found him at last. 
Woe, woe!” 

He looked wildly about him for a hole or some place to hide, 
but saw none. The Dinosaur King stood between him and the 
friendly trees; behind, spread the lagoon. The giant reptile bent 
low to sniff the ground. Jock could almost feel his hot breath. 
He crawled away along the beach, stomach to the ground, doing 
his best to escape unobserved. Vain hope. The monster saw 
him. Our hero hid his head in his paws and shut his eyes, think¬ 
ing that all would be over with him in a moment. 

All was over and quickly, but not exactly as Jock expected. 
At sight of the tiny Mammal, the eyes of the Dinosaur King 
nearly started from his head. His vast body shivered until the 
ground vibrated as from an earthquake. His tierce looks changed 
to abject terror. Here was an unknown creature whose like he 
had never seen—a diminutive being, and yet different from all 
other living things. The discovery threw him into a panic. With 
a blood-curdling screech he jumped back and bounded away at 
express-train speed. Not for an instant did he consider the man¬ 
ner of his going—anything to escape from the tiny creature he 
could not understand. His ponderous tail got mixed up with his 
legs somehow and sent him sprawling to the earth. Head over 
heels he rolled, tearing great gashes in the ground with his clawed 
feet. In an instant he was up and on his way again, more fright¬ 
ened than ever. His flight led him to the woods, and he tore 
through them, bellowing like a thousand mad bulls, knocking 
down trees and everything else that stood in his way. In less 
time than it takes to tell it, he had disappeared in the forest, leav¬ 
ing a broad lane of torn and twisted vegetation to mark his cy¬ 
clonic course. The cries and crashing gradually subsided and 
finally no sounds could be heard except the ripple of water upon 


28 



AT THE SIGHT OF THE TINY MAMMAL THE EYES OF THE 
DINOSAUR KING NEARLY STARTED OUT OF HIS HEAD 






















STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


the beach. Jock sat alone, watching open-mouthed, and listen¬ 
ing, until convinced that there was no more to see or hear. He 
felt himself all over to make sure he was alive. 

“It is too strange to believe,” he said in an awed voice. “The 
Dinosaur King, Ruler of the World, has fled from me. What 
poor things he and his creatures really are. They are huge and 
terrible to look at, but they have absolutely no sense at all. Ruler 
of the World; bah! I could do better than the Dinosaur King 
myself. My j)eople will soon learn of what they are missing. 
And now back to the Jungle, so that all may know of the good 
tilings awaiting them in the country of the Dinosaurs.” 


III 


The sun had set and twilight was fast changing to night when 
Jock finally completed his return journey across the Jungle roof 
and descended to his old home. His companions and neighbors 
were scattered about, and not jnuch in evidence, so he mounted a 
fallen tree and chattered his piercing call, which soon attracted 
the attention of all the Forest Dwellers. 

From every hole, brush-pile and hollow stump, they came 
trooping around him. His absence had been the cause of much 
speculation, and all were curious to hear what he had to say. The 
first arrivals were Mammals of his own kind, always looking for 
and welcoming any excitement; then the Burrowers, forever 
timid about venturing too far from their holes; and last of all, the 
Pouched Animals. These latter were a glum lot, and by nature 
averse to new ideas of any kind. They trailed behind the rest, 
grumbling and shaking their heads like old grand-daddies. The 
women-folk wore apron skin-pouches in most of which reposed 


30 


THE JUNGLE JINX 


sleepy infants, who squeaked and made a great fuss about being 
awakened so soon after beginning their night’s rest. When all the 
Jungle Dwellers were settled down around the fallen tree and 
the youngsters quieted, Jock began the recital of his day’s expe¬ 
riences. 

The Pouched Animals grunted their disapproval from the 
very first. To run away from home was unpardonable. They gazed 
at each other solemnly and shook their heads. Such folly could 
lead to no end but a bad one. The small Mammals took an en¬ 
tirely different view of the matter. As far as they were con¬ 
cerned, Jock had his audience with him. They edged up to him 
as close as possible, ears erect so as not to miss a single word. 
They were mightily interested. The Burrowers as usual were 
neither this nor that. They took the middle ground, neither 
objecting nor approving for fear of being drawn into an argu¬ 
ment with one or other of the opposing factions. They were like 
straws, ready to bend whichever way the wind blew. 

“It was a long, long journey across the jungle,” said Jock; 
“but I would have done it before and many times had I ever sus¬ 
pected what was at the other end of it. The trees finally became 
so few and far apart that I descended to the ground. I was look¬ 
ing and smelling at everything when suddenly an animal swooped 
down upon me from above.” 

“A Dinosaur!” moaned Old Grump, whereat all the Bur- 
rowers and Pouched Animals shivered and held their breaths. 

“Well, it looked more like a big bird to me,” said Jock. “I 
tumbled into a hole, and the creature did not know how to get me 
out, so it went away and bothered me no more.” 

“Didn’t it hide and wait until you came out?” one of the small 
Mammals inquired. 

“No; it did not have sense enough to do that.” 


31 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


The small Mammals tittered, but none of the others saw any 
fun in it. They took it as very serious business. 

“I crawled out of the hole again,” Jock resumed. “I thought 
I was getting near the end of the world, for there ahead of me 
was the sky upside down. I kept on to where the land ended 
and tried to peek over the edge. It was not sky, but water. I 
never saw so much of it in one place. Most of the Dinosaur 
country is water, which is not surprising, now that I think of it. 
Some of them live there.” 

“And the Dinosaurs; tell us about them,” begged one of the 
small Mammals. 

“I am coming to them,” Jock replied. “I smelled something 
so nice, I felt hungry all over, but I smelled something else, 
too, that I did not like so much.” 

“What was that?” peeped one of the Pouched Animals. 

“A strange creature without legs, and wearing a big stone 
on his back. He attempted to bite me, but I kept out of his way, 
and he did not even try to catch me. Soon I smelled another.” 

“Dinosaur?” Old Grump inquired in an awed voice. 

“No; another slow-footed creature. He tried to hit me with 
his tail but I jumped out of the way. The thing knew it could 
never catch me, nor did it try. Seeing nothing to fear from him, 
I hunted around to see what made the nice smell.” 

The Burrowers and Pouched Animals began to pluck up 
courage. Nothing very terrible had happened as yet. “What 
was it?” Old Grump ventured to inquire. 

“A tree bearing a cluster of luscious food. A single fruit 
stuffed me to bursting. There were as many in the cluster as 
there are of you.” 

Old Grump’s mouth began to water. He licked his chops 

32 


THE JUNGLE JINX 

greedily. “And this tree bearing fruit; is there more than one?” 
he inquired. 

“Aye—a whole forest of the best and choicest foods, all going 
to waste. Nobody wants them; nobody eats them.” 

“How r about the dinosaurs?” grunted one of the Pouched 
Animals. 

Old Grump doubled up and relapsed into his former gloom. 
“Yes, how about them?” he repeated. “There may be some good 
in the Dinosaur country but probably bad too, and more of it.” 

Jock winked at the small Mammals, then addressed himself to 
the Pouched Animals in a heart-to-heart manner. Even Old 
Grump experienced a thrill of pleasure at being thus taken into 
the speaker’s confidence. 

“Aye—the Dinosaurs. Now listen carefully for I have much 
to say about them.” Every pair of eyes and ears were now 
centered upon Jock. Every breath was stilled. Only the rus¬ 
tling of breeze-blown leaves and the subdued murmurs of fast¬ 
beating hearts broke the stillness of the Jungle. 

“The fruit I ate made me sick,” Jock confessed, much to the 
amusement of his small Mammal friends. “I was preparing to 
lie down somewhere when I heard a noise out in the water. There 
was a huge rock near by and I climbed up on that so as to see 
better. You will be surprised to learn that the rock was a huge 
Dinosaur.’ ’ 

The Pouched Animals nearly jumped out of their skins. Old 
Grump could scarcely believe his ears. “Most surprising! Ree- 
markable!” he gasped. “Did the monster roar terribly and gnash 
his teeth?” 

“No, he made no sound. However, he wiggled around so 
that it was all I could do to stay on top of him. His back was 
covered with many knobbed plates. You would think that he 

33 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

could feel nothing through them; but my claws tickled him in the 
creases where the plates joined together and he could not bear it. 
He begged me to get down.” 

“And what did you do?” giggled one of the small Mammals. 

“Do?” Jock replied. “I was so sick and the creature jumped 
around so that I got down faster than I wanted to. He shook 
me off. However, he shook the banana out of me, too, and I felt 
well again. He was a very harmless Dinosaur. I tried to learn 
something about him but he was hungry and had no time for me. 
He began gulping down all sorts of plants growing near the 
water. Another Dinosaur appeared just then. He swam ashore 
from far out somewhere. He was quite different from the first 
one although big and silly too. He thought I was a bug, then a 
caterpillar and finally a plant. I talked with him a few moments 
but he became so hungry listening that he,too,began gobbling up 
all the waterplants within his reach. It was this one who told 
me that the Dinosaurs did nothing else but eat and sleep.” 

Jock paused to rest his voice. The small Mammals began 
giggling and chatting among themselves. One of them squeaked 
“Eat and sleep” and this became a catchword to amuse the rest 
of them. “Is that all?” inquired one. “I like to hear you tell 
of these Dinosaurs. I never imagined that they were so silly.” 

“Yes, there was another one,” said Jock. “When I met him 
he was crying because his appetite had left him for a few moments 
and he feared he would starve to death. He really was a terrible 
looking monster with horns and all sorts of things growing out of 
his head. I was not much larger than his toe-nail but he was 
frightened when first he saw me.” 

This was too much. The small Mammals could not restrain 
their merriment. These Dinosaur were so veiy amusing that it 
seemed ridiculous to think of fearing them. The Pouched Ani- 


34 


THE JUNGLE JINX 


mals, however, felt differently. Dinosaurs were Dinosaurs and 
there was no denying that. Old Grump was determined that 
nobody would make a fool of him. 

“That may be true of some,’ he grunted sourly, “but how 
about the Dinosaur King? The lot of us would be a mere mouth¬ 
ful for him. He would swallow us alive if he had the chance.” 

The Burrowers and Pouched Animals replied to these glum 
words of the joy-killer with moans and despairing squeaks: “Woe 
to us! The Dinosaur King will destroy us. Fly—hide—run!” 
Old Grump sat rocking from side to side, wailing, “Woe, woe; our 
end is near.” The others joined in dismal chorus; then the babies 
woke up and their squeaks and squalls were added to the din. It 
began to look as though the meeting might break up in a mad 
stampede for the darkest and dampest corner of the Jungle. 

Jock ran up and down the fallen tree screaming at the 
frightened crowd. “Be quiet until I tell you of the Dinosaur 
King. What I say will surprise you.” 

“You have said enough,” snorted one of the Pouched Animals, 
an old fossil with low forehead and retreating chin. “I, for one, 
am going to gather up my family and hide in the darkest hole I 
can find.” 

“Why?” 

“Because of the Dinosaur King. He will eat every last one of 
us alive.” 

“He did not eat me,” said Jock. “When he saw me, he was 
so frightened, he ran away.” 

“How?” snorted Old Grump. “Ran away—from you? 
Oomp, oomp! Surprising; ree-markable. I can scarcely believe 

it.” 

“As you choose,” Jock declared boldly, “but others will be¬ 
cause it is the truth. Vegetable Eaters, Flesh Eaters, Dinosaur 


35 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


King; they are all alike, too clumsy to do anything but eat and 
sleep; too big to keep out of their own way. They have no sense. 
Has anyone sense who would let all those nuts and fruits go to 
waste? Don’t you think it about time for us to make use of them 
ourselves?” 

This last query was addressed to Old Grump. It touched a 
tender spot—his appetite. 

“Nuts; fruits? Um-m, well that’s different. If you are posi¬ 
tive that the Dinosaurs would not harm us and that we could have 
the food all to ourselves, I might think about it.” 

The small Mammals cheered lustily, the Burrowers squeaked 
and the Pouched Animals began smacking their lips. 

Jock’s eyes glistened. The battle was as good as won. 
“Good,” he said. “The Dinosaurs will not harm us and the food 
will be ours,” and he grinned at the small Mammals as much as 
to sajq “And plenty of fun to go with it.” 

His audience was now in as receptive a mood as any such audi¬ 
ence could be. Jock raised his voice and shouted boldly: 

“So now we are agreed. Tomorrow I lead you from the 
Jungle and to our new home.” 

Pandemonium reigned; everybody squeaking, jabbering and 
grunting at once. Doing a thing was different from saying it. 
The small Mammals shouted “Aye” to the very last one, but the 
Pouched Animals grew timid again and did not respond. They 
w^ere hard to move. “Nuts, fruit,” murmured Old Grump in an 
agony of doubt; but his mates heard and gave up the hopeless 
struggle. They yielded. The idea of so much good food going to 
waste was more than their greedy stomachs could endure. All 
then sought their nests to rest and prepare for the next day’s 
momentous event—the tremendous change from darkness to light 
whose influence was to reach every corner of the earth. 


36 


THE JUNGLE JINX 


The small Mammals were up bright and early, their hearts 
and minds filled with joy at thought of the near end of dampness 
and gloom and the new life opening before fhem. They raced 
about in wild excitement, filling the air with their noisy chatter. 
Even the Pouched Animals caught a bit of the general enthusi¬ 
asm although they were not backward in admitting that the food 
attraction more than influenced their final decision. They lined 
up with mouths dripping, awaiting the signal to start. The timid 
Burrowers plucked up courage and took their places in the rear 
where they could change their minds and turn back if anything 
went wrong. 

The last of the Jungle Dwellers were now in their places. 
Every baby was tucked away in its mother’s apron-pouch or 
fastened securely upon her back. Jock gave the signal and the 
exodus began. Through brake and thicket and over fallen trees, 
the strange procession swept onward, a compact, moving mass, 
irresistible as the waves of the sea. The days of the Dinosaurs were 
nearing their end and a new order of things—the Race of Mam¬ 
mals—was coming to its own' at last. 


37 









EOHIPPUS THE DAWN HORSE 
INTRODUCTION 


No creature, not even Man himself, can boast of an ancient, 
unbroken pedigree equal to that of the Horse. His bones are 
found in the rocks of every period of the Age of Mammals, and 
almost every stage of his development is known. 

Beginning in the Dawn Recent (Eocene) period as a little 
nobody about the size of a fox, he grew to be the large and accom¬ 
plished Horse of to-day. And yet his first appearance was 
not really his beginning, for even Eohippus grew from something 
as yet undiscovered. When found, this something will doubtless 
prove to be a little five-toed hoofed creature no bigger than a cat. 
Eohippus the Dawn Horse is known, however, and must suffice 
for the present. He had four hoofed toes, but even at this stage 
it would seem that his career was already mapped out, for his 
feet w r ere undergoing certain changes and his teeth had already 
outlined the pattern they were to assume in ages to come. These 
changes in feet and teeth pointed to a life upon the open plains at 
some time in the distant future, his feet becoming one-toed and 
rigid to insure speed over hard, level ground, and his teeth assum¬ 
ing a long-crowned form suitable for chewing tough, wiry grass. 
The Dawn Recent rocks of southwestern Wyoming, in which the 
bones of Eohippus are found, do not tell us all this; quite the con¬ 
trary. Nobody would have guessed him to be a horse, had not 
the rocks of successive periods shown so clearly his passing from 
one stage to the next. There is a vast gap between an acorn and 
an oak unless one plants the acorn and can watch it grow. The 
Rocky Mountain region from Montana to New Mexico, and 

39 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


particularly that portion of it which lies in southwestern Wyo¬ 
ming east of the Wasatch Range, was the cradle of mammals. 
Their hones appear here in great numbers, representing a large 
variety of small creatures which were just beginning to fit them¬ 
selves for their various careers. Horses, camels, tapirs and others 
had not progressed far enough to be easily distinguished one from 
another, and beasts of prey, with few exceptions, were in a very 
unfinished state. Many of the flesh and plant-eaters were so 
much alike that they seem to have been originally cast in the same 
mould. None of these Dawn Recent creatures exist to-day, and 
only in a very general way can we liken them to modern animals. 
Eohippus was no more a horse than an acorn is an oak, although 
he became one. There was still plenty of time to attain his end, 
however, for he had a good start with something like four million 
more years to go. 


N. 


40 


EOHIPPUS 


THE DAWN HORSE 

I 

This was my second summer in the “Bad Lands” of the Big 
Horn Basin—that vast expanse of rugged country which lies 
nestled among the Big Horn, Shoshone and Wind River Moun¬ 
tains of western Wyoming. I was a hunter of extinct animals 
and the “Bad Lands” were my hunting grounds, particularly 
that portion of the Big Horn Basin which borders the Gray Bull 
River. The sun had not yet emerged from behind the eastern 
hills when I left my headquarters at the YU ranch and rode off 
northeastward on horseback along the right bank of the Gray 
Bull River. Besides my sleeping blanket and provisions, I 
carried a hand-pick and leather bag. The latter was for trans¬ 
porting small specimens. One peculiarity of the “Wasatch” 
rocks was that the fossil bones were those of comparatively small 
animals. Naturally this relieved the difficulties of transporting 
them very materially, for in the Bad Lands where horse and 
pack-saddle were the only means of conveyance, the problem of 
bringing away large specimens was a most perplexing one. 

However, the particular object of my search was not large. 
My real mission in the Big Horn Bad Lands was to find the 
petrified remains of a four-toed horse; not a few bones but an 
entire skeleton. One whole season and thousands of dollars had 
already been vainly spent. I was now in the midst of my second 
effort. If necessary, I was to make a third. Twenty-five thou- 


41 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


sand dollars had been set aside and I was to use all of it if 
necessary in securing the complete fossil skeleton of a four-toed 
horse. 

Day after day, month after month, I had ridden my cow- 
pony through the sage-brush over hills, through gulleys, exploring 
every foot of the Big Horn Basin where the exposed rock-layers 
gave chance of finding what I sought. I discovered many petri¬ 
fied bone fragments, some whole bones but no complete skele¬ 
tons. It would seem as though any that might have been en¬ 
tombed within the rocks, must have been ground to bits by the 
weight of the mountains piled over them. It was a wearing, 
tiring and apparently hopeless quest; nevertheless I persisted, 
hoping each day that my hand would be the first to pluck a four¬ 
toed horse from the tomb where it had lain buried for possibly 
four million years. Then as each day went by without result, I 
pinned my hopes on the next; and so it went for one whole season 
and the half of another up to the time I now tell of. Much money 
and effort had been apparently wasted but as I saddled my pony 
for another journey into the Bad Lands, my former discourage¬ 
ments were forgotten in the renewed hope and determination 
that followed upon the heels of a night’s comfortable rest and 
a most appetizing breakfast. 

That morning I was up and doing earlier than usual. A 
driving rain had kept me indoors, idle and restless, the whole pre¬ 
vious day. My journey to the fossil-bearing ledges was a tedious 
one because of the sticky clay-mud which dragged hard on my 
pony’s feet. As I rode along the slopes between the river and 
Tatman Mountain, we had several tumbles on the slippery incline. 
However, we arrived safely beneath the ledges at last. Here I 
dismounted, picketed my pony and climbed up the rocks on foot. 

The air now fairly sizzled with steaming heat, for by this time 

42 


THE DAWN HORSE 


the sun was well up and its hot rays smote mercilessly upon the 
dripping ledges. Only those who have roamed over this shadeless 
region, bare of vegetation except for the ever-present sage-brush, 
can appreciate the discomforts of a hot, sticky day in the Big 
Horn “Bad Lands.” Had it not been for my broad-rimmed felt 
hat, my brains w T ould have stewed in my head. As I mounted to 
the upper ledges, my every step had to be taken with the utmost 
care. The steep, slippery slope offered insecure footing at best 
and a single misstep would have meant a bad tumble to the 

ground below. I was a fool, or at least I was according to W-, 

who said of my hunting: “None but a crazy man would climb 
around those rocks looking for busted bones.” However, it was 
my business being so crazy; and on this particular day, the heat 
and humidity made me crazier than ever. I was squirming my 
way along the face of the cliff wishing myself in Hades, or any 
other comparatively cool place,when I caught sight of something 
that made me forget instantly all personal discomfort. 

There, partly protruding from the rock above my head was a 
fossil jawbone about four inches long. The row of black shining 
teeth resembled a string of semi-precious stones. They looked 

like jewels to me, but then as W-had said, I must have been 

crazy, also the day was frightfully hot. With my pick I chipped 
the enveloping stone away bit by bit until finally I had partly 
uncovered a little skull, less than six inches in length. It was a 
perfect beauty. Did I rest content with that? No, indeed. I 
cut away the matrix at the base of the skull and was rewarded by 
finding the neck-bones. Chopping farther along I encountered 
part of a shoulder-blade. I became greatly excited as the work 
progressed. My sensations were those of a miner who, having 
struck a gold-bearing vein, was digging his way into a nest of 
nuggets. I continued stripping away the stone until I had 


43 



STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

brought to light the lower half of one front leg. Next came the 
foot. I stared like one in a trance. W- would have pro¬ 

nounced me crazy beyond the shadow of a doubt could he have 
seen me at that moment. It was a wonderful little foot, about 
the size of a fox terrier’s, but the toes—four of them—were tipped 
not with claws but tiny horse-like hoofs no bigger than my little 
finger nail. Talk about pedigree! My own faded into insignifi¬ 
cance. My pony picketed far below me could—if he knew how— 
have traced his back several million years. There was the record, 
clear and indisputable. I had unlocked it from the ancient 
archives, signed and sealed by Nature’s own hand. No expert 
could have forged that record or counterfeited the evidence of its 
great antiquity. That evidence was the fossil skeleton of the 
patriarch, a little creature not much larger than an Airedale, and 
wearing not one but four hoofs on each of his forefeet. I had 
found my four-toed horse at last. 

A whinny sounded below me. I looked down and saw that 
my pony was watching me. He looked every inch the aristocrat 
he was, whereat I felt humbled. What were my few hundred 
years of lineage to his millions? A wave of dizziness suddenly 
reminded me that the sun had become unendurably hot; so much 
so that the steel head of my stone-pick burned my hand. The 
heat, together with my excitement and labors, had so exhausted 
me that I saw the wisdom of descending to the ground for shade 
and rest, so down I went, taking the little stone skull with me for 
safe-keeping. It was but the work of a few moments to free it 
from the friable matrix and place it in my bag. This done I care¬ 
fully marked the spot where the balance of the skeleton lay 
buried and descended the cliffs. 

When on solid ground once more, I led my pony into the 
shade of an overhanging ledge and sat down beside him. Here I 


44 



THE DAWN HORSE 


rested and refreshed myself with a bit of food and drink. The 
combination of relaxation and nourishment made me feel much 
better and so delightfully lazy that I settled back against the rock, 
gazing dreamily into space through half-closed eyes. My pony 
lowered his head and sniffed at my bag. 

“Oho,” I said. “Allow me to introduce your hundred-thou¬ 
sandth great-grandfather. I met him only this morning.” With 
that I reached into the bag and drew forth the little stone skull. 
My pony eyed it curiously—reverently, I thought. He appeared 
much interested. “It was long ages ago,” I said. “These bad 
lands were a low, marshy region—quite different from now. 
Even the animals were different. All were dwarfs. They disap¬ 
peared in time and no one knows what became of them. Every¬ 
thing has changed greatly since the old days; even this little 
horse, his teeth, his bones. His four toes have become one and 
he has grown so large.” 

I paused. The glare on the surface of the Gray Bull River 
was so dazzling, I gazed from it to the distant hills. I was not 
at all startled to observe that the latter were slowly settling down. 
At the same time the valley was rising to meet them. Gradually 
the land-surface flattened and smoothed itself out. Trees 
emerged forming a green forest background. Grass, bushes and 
other vegetation unfolded toward me like a vast green carpet. 
Not a breath stirred the air. All was deathly still. 

At first the vast panorama upon which I gazed, seemed ab¬ 
solutely destitute of life. I felt as though I had been suddenly 
transported into the Land of Nobody and Nowhere. But as 
my eyes grew accustomed to my unfamiliar surroundings, grad¬ 
ually I became conscious of a figure standing before me. It was 
that of an animal which moved and breathed; a small creature 
no larger than a fox with slender head, graceful figure and dainty 

45 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


feet. The latter aroused my particular interest. Each toe—four 
on the front and three on the hind feet—was tipped with a minia¬ 
ture hoof. The sight of those little feet affected me strangely. I 
could only sit and stare at them until finally I became aware that 
their owner was in his turn staring at mine. I managed to find 
the use of my tongue. “Who are you?” I asked. 

“Eohippus the Dawn Horse.” 

“Oh!” and for a moment that was all I could say. It was 
something of a shock, although a pleasant one, to find myself in 
the presence of a living four-toed Horse. 

“You interest me very much,” I stammered. “Four hoofed 
toes! One rarely sees so many on a horse’s foot.” 

“Only three on my hind ones,” Eohippus corrected me very 
graciously. “You, I see, have only one.” He was looking at my 
hoots as he said this. They appeared to puzzle him. He made 
a pretty picture as he stood there watching them with his head 
cocked on one side. I was about to speak again when I noticed 
a small animal passing near us. I thought it a weasel at first, but, 
although slightly resembling one, it was quite different; clumsier 
in appearance and actions. It paid no attention to me, but 
w r atched the Dawn Horse closely as it slouched slowly past. 

No mistaking that look. It boded ill for my companion. The 
latter had by this time espied the evil-looking stranger. He 
fidgeted uneasily, then sighed with relief as the intruder crawled 
away and disappeared in the grass. I scented complications. 
Eohippus, as I could see, was much disturbed. “Who was that?” 
I asked. 

“A Killer.” 

“A Flesh-eating animal, you mean.” 

Eohippus shuddered. “You think so?” he asked timidly. 


46 


THE DAWN HORSE 


“I can hardly bring myself to believe it and yet something tells 
me that you may be right.” 

“Of course I am right. That little weasly fellow could not 
eat anything but flesh if he tried.” 

The Dawn Horse appeared stunned, hut in a moment he 
recovered himself. “Do you think that the Bearcats will ever 
fall into such evil ways?” he inquired anxiously. 

“Bearcats?” The name puzzled me. I thought myself fa¬ 
miliar with every animal that lived under the sun or moon; but 
here was a new variety. “What is a bearcat?” I asked. 

“Something like a Killer, something like a grass-eater,” was 
the answer. 

“Which does it resemble most?” 

“Killer,” Eohippus replied. “When we first came to this 
country the Bearcats were grass-eaters and looked like them, but 
time has changed that. Now they slink and crawl and spend 
their time away from us and with the Killers. The latter are an 
evil lot. It is said that they are not above eating the flesh of other 
animals. However, they never ate one of us that I know of.” 
This last statement seemed to give my companion no little 
comfort. 

“The ones killed and eaten would hardly be in a position to 
tell of their experiences,” I suggested. “You are being imposed 
upon. The Killers are picking you out one by one, and I suspect 
that your former grass-eating friends, the Bearcats, are getting 
the bones and leavings after the Killers have gorged themselves. 
From what you say, I am guessing that a Bearcat is a sort of 
hyena-animal.” 

Eohippus apeared greatly disturbed by my remarks. “You 
mean that they and the Killers are our enemies?” 

“I am sure of it.” 


47 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“Why, that means war!” the Dawn Horse exclaimed. “Beast 
fighting beast. What are we to do?” 

“Do? Well now, really.” I pondered, and as I did so a 
great wave of pity swept over me. “This pretty little creature 
is the Horse,” I thought to myself. “True, he is but the seed; but 
what if his growth is blighted and he is not permitted to develop ? 
Man’s best friend and helper would be lost to him forever.” It 
was a pretty state of affairs. The Killers had long ago broken 
away from the grass-eaters. The Bearcats were now doing the 
same thing. Eohippus would be overwhelmed by his enemies 
unless someone warned him of his danger. Who but I could 
warn and watch over him? What a responsibility! The future 
of the Horse was now in my keeping. With this sudden realiza¬ 
tion of responsibility, a terrible feeling of loneliness came over 
me. Here was I, a solitary man, come into being millions of 
years before my time. Never could I look upon a human face. 
I had no friends—none but the Dawn Horse. I vowed that 
henceforth I would devote my life to him and him alone. By 
guiding him safely through this trying period, mine would be the 
greatest service that now lay within my power to perform for 
the benefit of all mankind. 


II 

A loud snort suddenly disturbed my train of thought. 
Eohippus was gazing into the distance at a myriad of moving 
specks which dotted the country for miles around. They seemed 
to be concentrating in one large central mass. “Something unusual 
has occurred,” my companion said. “My people are all herding to¬ 
gether.” So saying, he turned away from me and moved toward 
the distant specks. I rose to my feet and followed, taking good 

48 


THE DAWN HORSE 


care not to tread upon Eohippus as I walked close behind him. 
Tread upon him? That may sound strange; but it must be re¬ 
membered that although he was a horse and fully grown, never¬ 
theless he was very, very small. 

I made a hasty survey of the country as we proceeded. The 
rugged hills and gullies of the Big Horn had resolved themselves 
into a broad lowland covered with long grass and swampy growth. 
The Gray Bull River had almost disappeared in the background 
behind a thin line of stunted trees. Far to the west a range of 
low hills cut the skyline with their gray crests 1 . I seemed to 
recognize in them the beginning of a vast scar—the Shoshone 
Mountains—slowly erupting from the earth. The air I breathed 
was warm and oppressive; the ground moist and yielding under 
foot. Strange birds arose from scattered patches of protruding 
vegetation, flapping away with much labor and noise. The vege¬ 
tation was that of the semi-tropics. 

We were gradually drawing nearer to the outskirts of the 
moving mass, so near that I could distinguish the various in¬ 
dividuals. I felt myself in a strange new world, whose inhabi¬ 
tants w r ere even more strange than the climate and country itself. 
Here were new faces and forms trooping before me in swarms. 

Soon we were in the midst of them and formed a part of the 
flood flowing toward the central mass. The Dawn Horse at¬ 
tracted considerable attention; but none seemed to notice me. 
I was a giant towering in their midst; and yet, strange to say, I 
neither jostled nor trod upon one of the vast throng packed 
closely about me. Neither by look nor act did they betray knowl¬ 
edge of my presence. 

Strange, bewilderingly strange, all these animals were to me; 
and yet as I noted the bony structure concealed for the most part 
beneath flesh and hide, they appeared less strange and unfamiliar. 


49 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

I did not know them; hut somehow or other I had learned to 
know their bones. 

Animals of the Dawn Horse’s own species began crowding 
about Eohippus in endless color and variety, gradually forcing 
the others aside. My companion was evidently an individual of 
considerable importance, judging by the way they formed an 
escort about him, leaving him plenty of room in the center. They 
were of many kinds and sizes. Numerous colts followed their 
mothers, frisking with each other like kittens. They reminded 
me very much of kittens with their supple bodies, many-toed feet, 
and long flexible tails. Not one of the grown animals was larger 
than a bull-terrier; and yet they were not cat-like nor dog-like at 
all. There were tapirs too, tiny monkeys, squirrels and various 
other small creatures too strange to compare with any I knew of. 

Farther on we encountered a new set of animals, the Knuckle 
Joints; larger than the Dawn Horses hut quite like them in 
general appearance. They were more stolid, however, and far 
less active than the Horses. They wore five toes on each of their 
four feet. There was something piggish in their manner. I 
judge that they could he fairly good fighters if anyone offended 
them. 

These Knuckle-Joint animals were simply an enlarged edition 
of the general type; creatures with five-hoofed feet, loosely con¬ 
nected bodies, heavy tails and elongated heads. The latter seemed 
to have very little room in them for brains. In this latter respect, 
Eohippus showed marked superiority over the other animals, 
whereat I felt a new pride in my little four-toed horse. Although 
old-fashioned he possessed more than his share of good common 
sense. 

Some of the small animals, although strange, were more or 
less familiar to me. One of them I passed had his mouth open 

50 



THE ARREST OF OXENA 




















STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


so that I could see his front teeth. The middle two in each jaw, 
thick and long, showed that he was a gnawing animal. Another 
had the making of a hedgehog. I could tell this by his peculiar 
teeth. The tooth plan in general was 4-11-44; four jaws, eleven 
teeth in each jaw, forty-four teeth in all. I looked into every 
open mouth I saw. It was a wonderful experience. I felt like 
an overgrown child amid the creatures of a toy Noah’s Ark, all 
wound up and ready to go. 

By this time we were near the center of the vast herd. My 
ears caught the sounds of many voices grunting and squealing, 
“Kill the renegade; Death to the Bearcats!” 

Eohippus turned his head and gazed at me. I could not 
resist the appeal of those soft eyes. They seemed to say: 

“Perhaps you know better than I. There may be traitors 
amongst us, and if so, you are here to guide me.” 

I edged closer to him and side by side we made our way into 
the very center of the throng. 

Here stood a compact mass of pudgy-bodied animals. They 
were the largest I had yet seen. In size and general appearance 
they somewhat resembled the African Hippopotamus. The 
points of two canine tusks peeped from beneath their upper lips. 
These were the grass-eating fighters, I judged, by the way they 
bellowed and snapped their jaws together. They were Ambly 
Pods or Stumpy Foot animals. As they stood in a semicircle 
shoulder to shoulder, three ranks deep, one of them, the largest, 
emerged from the group and advanced to meet the Dawn Horse. 

“Oxena has killed a Dawn Colt,” he bellowed. “What shall 
be done with him?” 

Eohippus shuddered. “This is terrible news. What has he 
to say?” 

The Ambly Pod gave a signal and soon a squad of his crea- 


52 


THE DAWN HORSE 


tures were hustling the culprit before Eohippus. Oxena was an 
unwholesome-looking brute, something like a wolverine. He 
had a large head and a long, heavy tail. His feet were tipped 
with dog-like claws. He was a Bearcat, a hyena-animal, the 
kind that fed upon the kill of others and attacked none hut the 
sick or feeble. Oxena’s manner now savored of cowardice but 
even a coward may make a bold stand when cornered. Suddenly 
his hair bristled and he showed his teeth, all the time glaring 
fiercely at his captors. At this show of fight, the Stumpy Foot 
leader confronted him with tusks bared. Oxena quailed and 
hung his head. “Let me go,” he whined. “Why do you treat 
me so?” 

“Yes, why? Shame, shame!” piped a shrill voice. 

All eyes were turned toward the speaker, a shifty-eyed, long¬ 
bodied individual, the size of a small cat. 

“It is the Puppy Mink,” someone snorted. “He is as bad as 
the other one.” 

“Not so,” the small meddler retorted. “I may be a Bearcat, 
but what of it? Is there any harm in that?” 

He glanced at Oxena reassuringly out of his beady eyes. The 
prisoner’s face brightened. His courage revived. 

“Yes, What harm?” he growled. And as for the killing, I 
have plenty of friends to prove my innocence.” 

“We are all friends here,” said Eohippus. “We will listen. 
I for one will be glad to hear someone prove that what you say 
is true.” 

Oxena gazed furtively about him. “They are not here,” he 
said. 

“Who?” 

“He means the Bearcats,” said the Stumpy Foot leader. 
“Nobody knows where they hide themselves these days.” 

53 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“I do,” the Puppy Mink volunteered. “If you wish I will 
go and fetch them.” 

“Do so,” Eohippus commanded. 

Instantly the Puppy Mink darted away, squirming through 
the crowd like a ferret. In a surprisingly short space of time, he 
emerged in the distance and raced off to the woods. Oxena 
seemed much pleased with the way his affair was progressing. 
He gazed boldly about him. His eyes alighted upon a couple of 
tiny pig-like creatures who had edged up close to him in their 
eagerness to see and hear every tiling that was going on. Oxena’s 
face assumed a ferocious expression and he licked his chops so 
greedily that the two little creatures were much alarmed. They 
shrank back into the crowd and soon made themselves scarce. 
Other small fry followed their example until finally only the 
larger animals remained. What a gathering! The Dawn Horse, 
Oxena and myself occupied the center. The large Stumpy Foot 
and Knuckle Joint Animals were massed closely about us with 
the Tapirs and Horses forming another ring outside of them. 
It was a court-scene such as I had never looked upon in all my 
born days—in the open air of Wyoming and conducted entirely 
by strange animals. Eohippus was the judge; the herd of grass- 
eaters was the jury; and the Stumpy Foot and large Knuckle 
Joint animals were there to preserve order. It was to he a fair 
trial, otherwise Oxena would have been summarily dealt with 
long before this. He was to he tried before a jury of his peers 
or rather his former associates. The crime of which he was 
accused was murder. He had done no worse than any flesh¬ 
eating animal; but beasts of prey were not yet generally recog¬ 
nized as such, therefore killing and eating a fellow-creature was 
a very serious offense. 

Oxena was guilty; I felt sure of that. His hyena-like teeth 


54 


THE DAWN HORSE 


were evidence enough for me. But the grass-eaters knew nothing 
about the meaning of teeth and were delving after the truth in 
their own way. As an interested spectator and guardian of my 
little horse, I, with the others, awaited developments in the case 
of the Herd versus Oxena, or rather in the first break between the 
flesh-eating and vegetable-eating animals of the Big Horn Basin. 

Ill 

A feeling of tenseness was in the air. The assembled animals 
gazed solemnly at each other as though anticipating trouble of 
some sort, they knew not what. Oxena’s eyes turned from time 
to time toward the distant woods. Suddenly his face brightened; 
his tail began to squirm. I looked to the woods and saw a group 
of animals coming toward us. 

Those on the outskirts of the throng were the first to espy 
the newcomers. It was but a small compact group approaching; 
but the grass-eaters gave way before them, rolling back and 
aside in two great waves. They feared the Bearcats, few as the 
latter were, and meant to give them plenty of room. This com¬ 
motion communicated itself rapidly to the central mass until it 
threatened to assume the proportions of a rout. At this juncture 
the Knuckle Joint and Stumpy Foot Animals drew more closely 
together in two columns, facing each other and leaving a lane 
between. The newcomers came rapidly down this lane to where 
Oxena was sitting, awaiting them. And so, these were the 
Bearcats! As they drew nearer, I had a fine opportunity to 
study each one of them. Their leader was a savage-looking 
brute, so different from Oxena that I ceased to wonder why the 
grass-eaters were so afraid of him. He was very cat-like and 
short-faced; in size and form quite similar to a Cougar or Rocky 


55 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

Mountain Lion. Of all that vast assemblage, grass-eaters and 
bearcats both, none was as large and strong as he. His eyes 
ran swiftly over the Knuckle Joints and Stumpy Foot Animals 
as he passed between them. A dozen or more strange-looking 
and mostly small creatures trailed behind him. All stopped in 
the central open space and seated themselves behind Oxena. One 
of them, the Bear Hog, rivaled his chief in size but was clumsier 
—a far less active animal. The grass-eaters had eyes only for 
these two large brutes hut my interest soon became drawn to 
their smaller companions. These were a strange lot, each a com¬ 
posite of civet and fox, weasel or other flesh-eating type. Several 
of them were no larger than ferrets and resembled ferrets some¬ 
what. All of them bore the dread stamp of the true flesh-eater; 
supple bodies, clawed feet, keen eyes and sharp-edged teeth. 

These small creatures were those whom Eohippus had termed 
the Killers. They sat waiting, watching the Knuckle Joints 
and Stumpy Foot Animals from the corners of their eyes. I 
was close by and ready, fully determined to protect the Dawn 
Horse if necessary. 

“It is claimed that Oxena killed one of my people,” said the 
latter addressing the crowd of grass-eaters. “Who can prove it?” 

“I”: a small rope-tailed creature emerged from the throng 
and sprang upon the arched back of one of the Knuckle Joints 
so as to be better seen and heard. The Killers scowled at such 
temerity but the newcomer paid no attention to them. He was 
the Chip Monkey. 

“A good witness,” I thought, for he looked like a tree animal 
with keen wits and eyes. His first words showed that I had 
made a very good guess. 

“I live in the forest,” he chattered boldly. “I was sitting in 
a tree last night and saw him”—indicating Oxena—“devouring 

56 




THE ARRIVAL OF THE BEAR CATS 























































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


an animal, one of the Dawn Colts who lay dead upon the 
ground.” 

Everybody gasped and stared at the culprit. The Killers 
growled angrily and bit their lips. “How could you see at 
night?” snarled their fierce leader. 

“I can see in the dark as well as you,” the midget retorted. 
“How about the night before when you were sneaking up 
to-?” 

“I object,” roared the big Killer leader; hut nobody heard 
because of the squeaks, snorts and other noises which now filled 
the air. 

“I saw Oxena too,” piped a shrill voice and the Chuck Squir¬ 
rel hopped out into the open. He too was a tree-climber. He, 
like the first tale-bearer, was given to night-roving habits. For 
these reasons alone he appeared well qualified as a second excel¬ 
lent witness. 

“The Chip Monkey speaks the truth,” he said. “I saw it my¬ 
self and something else too. Oxena not only ate the Dawn Colt 
—he killed him.” 

“Who would believe a Chuck Squirrel?” screeched the Puss 
Weasel, fiercest of the small Killers. “He is a thief who is for¬ 
ever stealing the birds’ eggs.” 

“But who leaves the young birds for you to eat,” was the 
prompt retort. 

“Good for you,” I chuckled. Spunk? The Squirrel and 
Chip Monkey both, had more than their little bodies would hold. 
The Puss Weasel was fairly swept off his feet. 

“Agh-h!” he glared at his accuser fiercely. He could say no 
more, he was so enraged. 

“You have heard our two witnesses,” the Dawn Horse now 


58 



THE DAWN HORSE 

said to the prisoner. “What have you to offer in your own 
behalf?” 

“I did come upon the body,” Oxena admitted, “but I was not 
devouring it. Never was I more surprised than when I saw it 
lying there.” 

“But you chewed and slobbered,” the Chuck Squirrel remon¬ 
strated. 

“I did but grieve,” replied the culprit, rolling his eyes sky¬ 
ward. He appeared so innocent that the Killers smirked at each 
other as though it were an excellent joke. 

“What these two little rascals say^ is all lies,” Oxena said 
after a moment’s pause. “How can it be true when grass, not 
flesh, is my food?” He leered at those about him, evidently think¬ 
ing that his statement was conclusive and that soon he would go 
scotfree. The voice of the Dawn Horse brought him to his senses. 

“Grass your food? We will soon see about that. Bring 
grass,” he shouted. “The accused is about to show us that he 
has not yet learned how to eat flesh.” 

The Dawn Horse’s commands were instantly obeyed. Grass 
was brought and piled before the prisoner who grew more and 
more crestfallen as the arrangements progressed. He looked at 
the green fodder with a wry face, then glanced appealingly at his 
friends, the Killers. The latter held their peace, taking cruel 
satisfaction in his confusion and curious to see what he would do 
next. The grass-eaters crowded closer around him, eager for 
him to begin. 

“Make haste,” bellowed the leader of the Stumpy Foot 
animals. “We cannot wait on you forever.” Oxena’s teeth 
gleamed. In his desperation, he became almost ferocious. His 
friends edged closer to him. The Knuckle Joints in their turn 
began to crowd forward. The Stumpy Foot animals rattled their # 


59 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

tusks. For an instant a clash appeared unavoidable; but the 
Killers saw that they were vastly outnumbered. They aban¬ 
doned their threatening attitude. There was no help for Oxena 
now. The law must take its course. He put on a bold front, 
bent over the heap of grass and seized a mouthful. That was as 
far as he got for the moment. I could not help smiling, it was 
all so ridiculous. It was as though he had made up his mind to 
take his dose of bad medicine and had lost heart at the last 
moment. Again the Stumpy Foot animals snapped their jaws 
together. Oxena made a horrible face, chewed the grass in his 
mouth and tried to swallow it. The task was beyond his powers. 
He gasped, choked, spat out the half-chewed morsel and sat with 
bowed head, a picture of hopeless confusion. 

The crowd began to murmur. The Bearcat had proven him¬ 
self guilty by his own evidence. Surely he could not be per¬ 
mitted to go unpunished. All eyes were turned to Eohippus. 
He hesitated. The Killers were crouching low as though mak¬ 
ing ready to spring upon the Knuckle Joint and Stump Foot 
Animals who in their turn were set and waiting to charge. It 
was a critical moment. Anything might have percipitated bloody 
civil war. It was high time for me to take a hand. 

“Oxena is a flesh-eater,” I whispered to the Hawn Horse. 
“Waste no more time proving that. Danger threatens. The 
Bearcats and Killers have joined forces against you and yours. 
Rid yourself of Oxena and his friends. Act quickly before it is 
too late.” 

I did not add that I could then see numerous figures emerg¬ 
ing one by one from the distant woods. If the grass-eaters did 
not bestir themselves, they would soon be overwhelmed by their 
fierce enemies. 

But the sharp-eyed Killer leader had also caught sight of 


60 


THE DAWN HORSE 


the distant figures. He sprang to his feet and bared his teeth 
at the crowd. “Oxena is innocent,” he snarled. “Come, let us 
go.” 

“Good! Tell your friends not to interfere with them,” I 
said to the Dawn Horse. “The quicker they go, the better. 
Their friends are sw r arming to their aid.” 

The Dawn Horse trembled. He began to realize his danger. 

“Let them pass,” he called to the Stumpy Foot Animals. 
The latter snorted and stamped their feet angrily but fell back 
obediently nevertheless. The Killers with Oxena in their midst, 
passed through. 

“And now r tell your people to fly and save themselves,” I 
directed. “Quick, the Killers are coming. They cannot catch 
you if you wall only run.” 

But there w r as no need for this latter warning. Others had 
already detected the approaching figures and given the alarm. 
The vast herd of grass-eaters w r avered, then burst into panic- 
stricken flight across the lowlands like leaves blown by the driv¬ 
ing wind. The spell w'as broken. Killers and Bearcats both 
arose from their crawling positions and hurried after, barking 
and howling at the top of their lungs. 

The next moment I found myself in the midst of a sea of 
swirling animals which bore me along like a chip upon the ocean 
tide. The Dawn Horse w r as whisked away from me, and al¬ 
though I hurried after him as fast as I could, the distance be¬ 
tween us rapidly widened. My breath came in gasps. My speed 
slackened with exhaustion because of the swiftness of the pace. 
The last of the grass-eaters sped past me and I stood alone. I 
looked behind me. Killers and Bearcats both had abandoned the 
chase and were trooping back to the woods. The Killers were 
not persistent runners and detested a long stern chase. The 


61 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


grass-eaters would return sooner or later and could be dealt with 
one at a time. As for the Bearcats, now that they had shown 
their true colors, they too must learn to crawl and spring upon 
their prey. 

I looked before me. The distant horizon had risen and 
become a line of hills upon whose crest stood a little creature 
with head turned as though looking for something or somebody 
behind him. He was far away. 

‘‘Wait, wait, little horse,” I cried, but he was too distant to 
hear me. The figure resumed its way and disappeared over the 
hills. I endeavored to follow, but the ground before me, which 
was continually rising, suddenly shot up to a great height and 
barred my further advance. 

“Lost,” I groaned. “My little horse has left me and I will 
see him no more.” 

Then came a sudden change. It was as though I had been 
whisked away into another world. A flood of fire burst through 
the sky overhead and almost blinded me with its dazzling light. 
The glare and heat made my temples throb. A gigantic head 
suddenly thrust itself between me and the sun. I opened my 
eyes wide and stared about me in bewilderment. The marshy 
lowlands had disappeared. The rugged hills and gullies of the 
Bad Lands surrounded me on every side. The Gray Bull River 
flowed at my feet. 

All had changed. The passing moments yawned infinite 
time. I was half-sitting with my back to the rock which pro¬ 
tected me from the direct rays of the scorching noon-day sun. 
My pony’s soft muzzle was sniffing that which I held within my 
hand, a little stone skull—the skull of Eohippus. 


62 


INTRODUCTION TO “POEBRO” 

From Dawn Recent (Eocene) times until not so very long 
ago our United States was the home of the Camel. He left us 
for his own good reasons, which is a pity, for had he stayed we 
could now have caravans trooping across Nevada and other water¬ 
less regions, just as they do on the Sahara Desert. He marched 
off into Asia and Africa, probably by way of Alaska, just as un¬ 
concernedly as an easterner would take a trip to California, while 
several of his relatives, the Llama and Guanaco, branched off to 
South America. Our country has seen the last of the Camel in 
a wild state, and only as a circus actor has he ever returned to the 
land which gave him birth. However, there is no use crying over 
spilled milk. Our Camel is gone, and we have seen the last of 
him. And yet, if the truth be told, his disappearance was some¬ 
what in the nature of a trade. Asia got him, also our horses and 
tapirs, but she had to pay with bison, moose, elk and some bears 
thrown in. Whenever animals left their homes, others took their 
places. Land w r as never permitted to lie idle if it contained food 
and drink. 

This tramping from one continent to another is w T ell illus¬ 
trated in the Little Recent (Oligocene) rocks of the White 
River in South Dakota. This is truly an inspiring region w T ith 
its lofty towers and battlements of brilliantly colored clays, shales 
and sandstones, piled on top of one another to a height of one 
thousand feet. These rocks are filled with bones of ancient ani¬ 
mals and in few other localities are they so numerous and v r ell 
preserved. They were the first American Age of Mammal de¬ 
posits to be systematically explored and our great museums are 
filled with the skeletons found in them. An extraordinarily large 
variety of beasts is represented. Besides survivors from the 

68 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


Dawn Recent (Eocene) period, numerous visitors may be recog¬ 
nized; emigrants came from Europe and Asia to try their for¬ 
tunes in the New World. As might be expected, this invasion of 
eastern hordes with keen appetites aroused considerable appre¬ 
hension among the natives who were obliged to bestir themselves 
to retain their fair share of food and water. Some failed as did 
certain of the visitors, but among the successful ones was a small 
creature of modest mien who now occupies a conspicuous place 
in ancient animal history. This individual, a native American, 
was Poebro (Poebrotherium), ancestor of the modern Camel. 


POEBRO THE TOY CAMEL 

I 

To look at him no one would have suspected Poebro of being 
a camel, for his two-toed feet were unpadded at the soles and his 
hump was but a faint suspicion. He was small too; about two 
feet tall at the shoulders and his legs were of only moderate 
length. His neck was comparatively short, for not much of it was 
required to bring his mouth to the ground. Therefore he could 
not curve it and stand with head settled back sleepy-eved, chew¬ 
ing and working his thick lips as does the Camel we know. And 
yet, in spite of these failings, Poebro was an honest cross-my- 
heart camel, and there is no use denying that. He may not 
have been much to look at, but appearances are sometimes deceiv¬ 
ing, for his pedigree was as long as your arm. 

His early schooldays were spent in the southwestern comer 
of Wyoming, the Bridger country. Of course it was too soon in 
his life for him to think of studying to be a camel, for he was no 
larger than a jack-rabbit, and had no idea what he wanted to he 
when he grew up, and yet even then he was determined on mak¬ 
ing a name for himself and being something distinctive. After a 
time, Southwestern Wyoming began to look too slow and old- 
fashioned for him, so he moved farther east to the Washakie 
country. Soon he tired of this, too, and shifted northwestward. 
As luck would have it, this brought him into the White River 
region of South Dakota. This was fortunate for him, in that 


65 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


the country south of the Black Hills had for some time been pre¬ 
paring itself for a big land boom and Poebro arrived just in time 
to reap the benefit. Warm air, mild breezes and abundant mois¬ 
ture had been long busy on this part of the map, so that the little 
Camel found it well-stocked with tender grass, fresh water and 
all manner of nice things. He believed with good reason that 
no more charming spot could be found in all the world. Other 
settlers began flocking in; the Three-toed Horse, Hornless Deer, 
Running Rhinoceros and others too numerous to mention. 

The Horse was about the size of a sheep, larger than Poebro, 
but more slender and graceful and as much like a modern horse 
as might have been expected in those daj^s, except that his legs 
were less rigid and he wore three toes on each of his feet. True, 
the middle one did practically all of the work and the smaller 
two, dangling one each side of it, were more ornamental than use¬ 
ful, but that did not prevent his being a Three-toed Horse. How 
he lost the two useless toes and finished up by walking about on 
the nail of his last remaining one, is another story. 

The Hornless Deer was the smallest of the quartette, a dainty 
little deer-like creature about a yard long. 

The Running Rhinoceros was a trim-bodied, slender-legged 
animal; more like a stout pony than a Rhinoceros. He wore no 
nosehorn, although his muzzle arched strongly, offering a stout 
support for a horn if he wanted to grow one. He was much 
larger and heavier than any one of his three companions. 

The four of them were most congenial. Being the country’s 
original settlers and all of ancient family, they formed the aristoc¬ 
racy and were treated like aristocrats by the other animals who 
came later to settle about them. They were known as the Plains 
Folk to distinguish them from the common herd or Forest Dwell¬ 
ers who kept to the woods or near the river. 

66 


\ 


THE TOY CAMEL 


This river flowed through their domains. It was not the White 
River nor the Chej^enne, but another one, now long dried up and 
gone. Forests of wonderful trees lined it on both sides. Rushes 
and water-plants grew thickly along its banks. On the western 
side inland, the trees melted away into fertile meadows, then a 
country bare of vegetation extending to the distant horizon—the 
barren wastes of the sand dunes. 

Poebro and his friends spent most of their time upon the 
meadows, although not infrequently they went to the river to 
drink and bathe. The meadows were their favorite haunt, but 
having come to believe that all things were intended for their own 
special benefit, they appropriated the river bank, too. This latter 
was set aside as a park. Casual intruders were warned away, and 
for a time they did with it about as they pleased. 

Being aristocrats, the Plains Folk did nothing that might be 
called work. Perhaps if they had spent less time idling and paid 
more attention to business, their affairs would have turned out 
better; for things happen sometimes, and when one least expects 
them. 

One morning they were lolling about on the meadow when 
their nerves were rudely disturbed by the sound of scuffling feet. 
Four heads rose in unison and four pairs of eyes became centered 
upon an animal coming toward them. All recognized the Pig 
Sheep, the Park’s headgardener. It was his duty as caretaker 
to crop the grass, trim the shrubs, etc. His wages were the cut¬ 
tings and trimmings, so he saw to it that the place was kept spick 
and span and his stomach well filled to boot. As he halted before 
the Plains Folk he puffed and blew, so great was his hurry and 
excitement. 

“Some strangers are intruding in the Park.” he bleated loudly. 
“You must come at once and drive them away.” 

67 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“Who are they?” Poebro demanded; “and please remember 
to whom you are talking. It is for you to take orders, not give 
them.” 

“I never saw their like before,” came the answer in more sub¬ 
dued tones. “But they are behaving terribly, sir. Something 
must be done at once.” 

Poebro laid his head upon the grass and half-closed his eyes. 
“Tell them to go away,” he yawned. “If talking does no good, 
use force.” 

The Pig Sheep slunk away, shaking his head. He was not 
long absent, and his measure of success might have been judged 
by his appearance when he returned. Mud covered him from 
head to foot. His nose was swollen and he had acquired a black 
eye. One hind leg seemd to have suffered damage, for he limped. 

At sight of him the Plains Folk scrambled to their feet. Evi¬ 
dently somebody had been rude. Their surprise changed to rage 
as their humble servant told his story. 

“I ordered them away as you told me to,” he said, “but they 
paid no attention. Then I attempted to use force. What hap¬ 
pened after that I cannot quite remember. I seemed to be flying 
in all directions—principally up—with nothing but air to cling 
to. Finally I landed somewhere with a bump. That was all; but 
I think it quite enough, and with your kind permission I will go 
away for a few days to rest and calm my nerves.” 

It was a touching narrative. The Pig Sheep presented a most 
pathetic and woe-begone appearance as he told it. 

“We will look into this matter at once,” Poebro burst out 
angrily. “These strangers must be made an example of. Let us 
go and attend to the matter ourselves.” 

So he led the way post-haste across the meadows and through 

68 



“SOME STRANGERS ARE INTRUDING IN THE PARK” 






















STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


the forest until the four of them stood upon the river bank. Here 
they stopped and stared, too amazed for words, for what they saw 
there was enough to open anybody’s eyes. 

The Park presented a sorry sight. The grass was trampled 
and tom, the shrubs beaten down and the sloping banks dis¬ 
figured by wallows and mud holes. All around, and doing noth¬ 
ing but stand, sit and lie, were a host of strange animals. Such 
a fat, stupid and ungainly lot, the Plains Folk had never seen. 
Some were large, others medium-sized; long-legged, short-legged 
with pudgy bodies and heavy noses bearing one or two horns, in 
some cases none at all. It seemed as though every rhinoceros in 
the world had come to desecrate this hallowed spot. 

Many creatures other than these first-named were present in 
great number. They resembled the Rhinos, but were larger and 
more stoutly built. These were the Titan Beasts. Most of them 
wore nose-horns in all sizes from small to large. They wore them 
in pairs, not one behind the other as did the Rhinos, but branch¬ 
ing out sideways from a thick root to form the letter V. All had 
small,piggy eyes and scooped-out foreheads where brains ought 
to have been. None moved. Except for the occasional whisking 
of a tail or ear, they might have passed for clay, or rather mud 
statues, for this latter material plastered them from head to 
foot. 

“What a disgusting lot,” Poebro sniffed in amazement. “How 
did they come here ? And so many! Wait, while I go and speak 
my mind to them.” 

He tripped down the bank, taking good care not to soil his 
shiny hoofs in the mud which the intruders had scattered thought¬ 
lessly about. Before him stood Big Horn, one of the Titan Beasts 
gazing dully into space and spanking the flies with his piglike 
tail. He was a pudding sort of animal, with nose-horns, legs and 

70 


THE TOY CAMEL 


things sticking out all over him. He looked, not at, but right 
through the little Camel as the latter halted before him. 

They were a strongly-contrasted pair, standing there close to 
and facing each other; on the one hand, the dainty little Camel, 
neat and trim from head to foot; on the other, the burly Titan 
Beast, eyes, ears and mouth buried in fat and heavy skin, and 
plastered all over with mud. Poebro had no thought of danger. 
He would have ventured even closer had he not been fearful of 
soiling himself on the dirty brute. 

“I wish it distinctly understood,” he said in his haughtiest 
manner, “that this is our park and no strangers are permitted 
here. You and your friends will now clean up this mess and leave 
at once.” 

Big Horn merely flicked a fly off his rump and continued 
gazing dreamily into space. Poebro w r as greatly annoyed at such 
rudeness. “You must leave—at once,” he repeated, raising his 
voice to a higher key; but the Titan Beast paid not the slightest 
attention. 

“He must be deaf,” thought the little Camel, so he stepped 
closer and fairly shouted his commands in the other’s ear. The ear 
in question moved forward half an inch, but that seemed to be the 
best Big Horn could do by w r ay of response. 

At this, Poebro flew into a great rage. “Miserable brute!” 
he screamed, “if you do not answer or do as I say I wall chastise 
you.” 

“Womph! womph!” Poebro turned quickly and saw one of the 
intruders coming toward him along the bank. This w r as another 
variety, the Biver Pig, a smaller and more slender animal than 
either the Rhinos or Titan Beasts, but a most surly-looking brute. 
He halted a few paces from the little Camel and eyed him 
threateningly. 


71 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“What are you doing here, little pest?” he grunted coarsely. 
“Cannot you see that this good creature is trying to rest? Now 
run away and do not disturb him again, or I will toss you into 
the river.” 

His teeth gleamed so menacingly that Poebro retreated in 
alarm. He returned to his friends in a great rage, for talking 
seemed to produce no results, and he knew nothing else to do. 

How can we rid the place of these disgusting beasts?” he 
scolded. “They will not even listen to me, and yet we cannot let 
them stay here.” 

“How can we prevent them?” the Three-toed Horse inquired. 
“They are too big and too many for us. Better return to the 
meadows. They may go away of their own accord if we leave 
them alone.” 

The Hornless Deer and Running Rhinoceros considered this 
a very good plan. The former was a timid little animal and pre¬ 
ferred going around to bumping his head against difficult prob¬ 
lems; the latter could not lightly ignore his relationship to the 
newcomers. He was a rhinoceros—a more refined article than 
they, and yet of the same general brand. He agreed with the 
Three-toed Horse that the intruders must be left in possession of 
the field for the present. 

So they returned to the meadows—all but Poebro. The little 
Camel’s pride was deeply wounded, and he was determined that 
he at least would not yield so easily. He tripped along the bank, 
studying the various individuals as they remained immovable in 
their peculiar poses. None of them paid the slightest attention 
to him. He descended the bank to drink, and was about to lower 
his mouth to the water when he clenched his jaws together an¬ 
grily at sight of a clump of rushes growing in the shallows. 
Even they were crushed and beaten about as though ponderous 

72 


“HE MUST BE DEAF ” THOUGHT THE LITTLE CAMEL 















































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


feet had trampled there. He was moving toward them for a 
closer examination when a muffled snort sounded from their midst. 
There was another of those awful Rhinos glaring at him as it 
stood knee-deep in the water. Poebro could no longer contain 
himself. “Go away, dirty beast!” he screamed. “This is my river. 
You must go away.” 

At this the burly intruder splashed his way ashore and faced 
the little Camel with mouth wide open. He was a Water Rhi¬ 
noceros, and wore no nose horn; hut his long upper canine tusks 
were enough to frighten anybody. By this time Poebro had 
worked himself into a terrible state of nerves. He simply would 
not permit those beasts to remain, and yet what could he do? 
Finally he ceased struggling against Fate and returned to the 
meadows, where his friends awaited him. 

The situation—as far as the Plains Folk were concerned— 
became more and more difficult each day. Rhinos and Titan 
Beasts continued trooping in until the river bank fairly swarmed 
with them. Whenever the Plains Folk went there to drink and 
bathe they found the water so muddied they turned up their noses 
and refused to touch it. To their complaints the ill-mannered 
strangers merely grunted: “Those who are too particular can look 
for their water somewhere else.” 

Then a fresh consignment arrived—a herd of Giant Pigs. By 
this time the river border had become so crowded these later ar¬ 
rivals were obliged to seek the woods to find room for themselves. 
Luckily for the Forest Dwellers, who were already there, the bulk 
of them were tree animals; but they passed many sleepless nights 
with all that grunting and squealing going on beneath them. 
With this swine influx, Poebro and his friends felt that their limit 
of endurance was nearly reached. The Pigs were an even surlier 
lot than the Rhinos and Titan Beasts and much more aggressive. 

74 



THE GIANT PIGS REBUFF THE PLAINS FOLK 












































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

Many of them were as large and strong as bulls. Their heads 
were simply enormous, their tusks enough to terrify the stoutest 
heart, and they were surprisingly active, considering their size. 
They told the Plains Folk, without mincing words, that they 
would do well to keep out of the woods and stay on the meadows, 
where they belonged. 

Did the Plains Folk do as bidden? You may be sure they 
did. Imagine a herd of bulls with wild boars’ heads. One such 
animal would make anybody think twice before choosing to offend 
him. 

What brought about this invasion of Giant Pigs, Rhinos and 
Titan Beasts? Why did they come to this particular spot instead 
of going somewhere else ? These were questions that Poebro and 
his friends asked themselves without receiving satisfactory an¬ 
swers. 

The fact was that the strangers were emigrants newly ar¬ 
rived from Asia and Europe. Somehow they had learned of the 
wonderful region south of the Black Hills, and decided it was well 
worth their time and trouble to have a look. It was a long, hard 
journey. Steamships, railroad trains, motor trucks and all such 
means of conveyance were unheard of in those days, and animals 
traveled about on their own' feet. However, North America and 
Asia were joined together somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, and 
that made matters easier. How long it took them to make the 
journey nobody knows—nor cares. Enough to say that finally 
they arrived and found the White River region up to and well 
above their standards. It was a quiet, restful place, with warm 
climate and plenty to eat and drink. Everything suited them, 
so they decided to stay. 

The Plains Folk soon realized this to their sorrow, but they 
could do no more than make the best of a bad situation. The 


76 


THE TOY CAMEL 


Rhinos and Titan Beasts held the river and its banks, while the 
Giant Pigs ruled the forests. This left only the meadows for the 
Plains Folk, hut as soon as they had grown a hit accustomed to 
changed conditions, they really got along very v r ell there, for it 
furnished the food they liked best. Occasional streams and 
pools of water gave them plenty to drink. This was more than 
they deserved, considering the snobbish way they had treated 
others in the past. They had been taught a good lesson, and 
would have been much better for it, had not unforeseen complica¬ 
tions arisen to give them real cause for worry. 

Browsing and grazing animals never went about in large 
numbers without having a host of fierce beasts trailing after them. 
Now that the Rhinos and their brood had come to stav, the others 
stayed, too. Being flesh-eaters, these hangers-on preyed upon 
the vegetable-eaters, hiding in the woods and springing out upon 
the more peaceful animals whenever the chance offered. 

The beasts of prey consisted of big otter-like minks, bearcats 
and civet-dogs. Seeing the Plains Folk upon the meadows they 
w r ould crawl up as close as they could without being seen and then 
dash upon them. But the Plains Folk were sharp-eyed and swift 
of foot, and could not be caught by such methods. At the first 
sign of danger they darted away like the wind, and no flesh-eater 
was fleet enough to catch them. 

The troubles of Poebro and his friends seemed to be multiply¬ 
ing, and yet, all things considered, a brush now and then with the 
flesh-eaters really did them good. It kept them keen of eye and 
ear, and improved their physical condition just as continued re¬ 
buffs by the River Beasts had improved their manners. The at¬ 
tacks of their fierce enemies merely sharpened their wits and cre¬ 
ated many a diversion. They v 7 ere beginning to enjoy their new 
fife and find much happiness in it when a new and terrible danger 


77 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

descended upon them from a clear sky. This was the unexpected 
arrival of the Sabre Cat, one whose two upper canine teeth were 
developed into curved daggers. Although no larger than a pan¬ 
ther cub, he was to the Plains Folk a most formidable enemy, not 
merely because of his sabre fangs, but because of his long legs 
and lean muscular body, so well adapted for swift running, for 
as a racing competitor of fleet-footed animals the Plains Folk 
soon learned to their consternation that he was a match for them¬ 
selves. 

II 

The Plains Folk took counsel among themselves. All real¬ 
ized that the Sabre Cat was a deadly menace. If they could not 
circumvent him somehow, they must either go away or face de¬ 
struction. The Three-toed Horse voiced the general sentiment. 

“Our affairs are drifting from had to worse,” he said. “First 
the River Beasts ruin our park, then the Giant Pigs turn our 
woods upside down, and finally the flesh-eaters come to destroy 
our lives. The Sabre Cat is as swift-footed as we are. What 
shall we do?” 

“I might suggest something,” replied the Running Rhinoc¬ 
eros with some show of embarrassment. “The River Beasts, as 
you may know, are relatives of mine. I did not invite them here,” 
he snorted, as his three friends pricked up their ears and glared at 
him. “I have not the remotest idea where they came from. But 
now that they are here and cannot be gotten rid of, my relation¬ 
ship to them may be turned to good account.” 

“How?” demanded Poebro suspiciously. Although forced to 
accept the situation, his opinion of the River Beasts had not im¬ 
proved one whit. The Running Rhinoceros was observant enough 
to see what was in the little Camel’s mind. 


78 


THE TOY CAMEL 


“Now be careful, Poebro, or you will spoil everything,” he 
remonstrated. “We are in a desperate plight, and dare not be 
over particular. I am related to the River Beasts and I cannot 
help that; but it gives me an idea which I believe will work out 
nicely. I slipped past the Giant Pigs and down to the river this 
morning. There I met Brontus.” 

“Brontus? Who is he?” Poebro demanded. 

“One of the Titan Beasts; the largest, their leader, and not a 
bad creature when once you know him. However, he is like all 
the rest of them—mean and stubborn or good-natured and agree¬ 
able, according to the notion he takes. Things have come to the 
point where we must cultivate Iris friendship.” 

The Hornless Deer and Three-toed Horse nodded approval. 
Poebro scowled and ground his teeth together, but said nothing. 

The Running Rhinoceros assumed a more confident air. 
Poebro might be stubborn, but he was only one against three. 

“Once on friendly terms with Brontus,” he went on, “we will 
have no trouble with the others. In this way we avoid the Sabre 
Cat and insure our safety, also our water supply. It is very 
simple.” 

“Simple as far as the water is concerned,” snapped Poebro; 
“but as to our avoiding the Sabre Cat, I do not see your point at 
all.” The little Camel was by nature timid and feared the swift 
hunter above all tilings. 

“Simple if you will see it,” the other retorted. “The Sabre 
Cat dare not attack the Giant Pigs or River Beasts. They are 
too big and strong for him. If we stay near them, they will pro¬ 
tect us. Brontus hinted as much to me; but then, as I said before, 
w^e must be careful the w^av we treat him.” 

The Hornless Deer and Three-toed Horse again signified 
their approval. Poebro hesitated, tom by contending emotions. 

79 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


His fear of the Sabre Cat vied with contempt for the vulgar 
rabble; but it took him only a moment to decide. His eyes blazed, 
his nostrils swelled scornfully. “Associate with the River 
Beasts?” he stormed. “I say, no—no—no! Not one of those 
dirty brutes will have my friendship, even though I be driven into 
the Sabre Cat’s jaws.” 

He might have said more, for the very idea of his descending 
to the River Beasts’ social plane was more than he could bear. 
Suddenly a change came over him. His tongue became paralyzed 
and froze to the roof of his mouth; his eyes started from his head; 
his whole body trembled as he stared half-dead with fear at some¬ 
thing not a stone’s throw distant. 

There lay a large boulder and a pair of fierce eyes were peer¬ 
ing from behind it. They were the eyes of his dreaded enemy. 
Espying the Plains Folk from a distance the Sabre Cat had crept 
up unobserved, skillfully making use of every shrub and stone to 
conceal his approach. A few yards more and he would have been 
well within striking range; but fortunately for the Plains Folk, 
Poebro caught sight of him just in time. The little Camel man¬ 
aged to find the use of his tongue. 

“The Sabre Cat!’ he screamed. “Run—run for your lives!” 

Out leaped the fleet racer and the Plains Folk scattered in all 
directions. 

Poebro heard the patter of soft feet close at his heels. He 
snatched one quick glimpse behind him. The Sabre Cat had sin¬ 
gled him out and was racing after him with the swiftness of the 
wind. A fresh burst of speed, which taxed his utmost powers, 
and Poebro barely maintained his lead. He fairly flew over the 
meadow, but the Sabre Cat kept pace with him, traveling at a 
tremendous rate with his long leaps and bounds. 

Poebro despaired. Never before had he attained such speed, 

80 



PO£BRO PURSUED BY THE SABRE CAT 
































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


and yet he could no more than hold even with his relentless pur¬ 
suer. There must be an end some time, and soon. His strength 
was failing rapidly. He could not long maintain that terrific 
pace. In his terror and desperation, the little Camel suddenly 
turned and dashed toward the vast, open country—the barren 
wastes of the sand dunes. 

His pursuer stopped short as his feet touched the first patch 
of soft, yielding sand. To him the desert seemed a dreadful place. 
He snarled horribly as he watched Poebro speed swiftly away. 
“That little Camel will soon be mine,” he said between his 
clenched teeth. “He must have water, and he will find none in 
the sand country. All I need do is watch and catch him when he 
returns.” 

Poebro never halted in his flight across the sand dunes until 
he felt sure that the Sabre Cat had abandoned the chase, then he 
stopped. Sand—sand everywhere. Its emptiness and vastness 
were appalling. In the distance behind him, where desert merged 
into meadow, stood his dreaded enemy. 

“What if I had not seen him and he had secured a quicker 
start?” The idea gave him the shivers, and he decided to stay 
where he was for the present. Poebro hated the sand country; 
but the Sabre Cat apparently liked it even less. The place pos¬ 
sessed no attractions, hut it was a haven of refuge and the little 
Camel was more than glad so to make use of it for the time being. 

It was now late in the afternoon. Poebro began to feel hun¬ 
gry and thirsty, too. He looked about him. “I am safe enough 
from the Sabre Cat,” he thought. “Nobody would choose to an¬ 
noy me here; but the question is, how am I going to eat and 
drink?” 

Something of a problem. True, it was a safe place to he in— 
for a time. There was no end of room to run around in; but 


82 


THE TOY CAMEL 


green grass and water were conspicuous by their absence. 
Poebro was not long in discovering this, and it worried him 
greatly. “I must eat and I must drink,” he whimpered. “I 
wish that mean brute would go away and let me alone.” 

But the Sabre Cat would not go away. The little Camel 
could see him in the distance moving about upon the meadow. 
Xone of Poebro’s companions was in sight. He felt hungry 
and thirsty and lonesome, too, and would have given much to be 
with his friends, munching sweet grass and cooling his throat with 
refreshing drink. But hunger, thirst and craving for companion¬ 
ship could not equal his fear of the Sabre Cat. As night came on 
he withdrew farther into the sand country, for he was fearful 
that his enemy might sneak up and catch him unawares if he 
staved too close to the meadows. 

His surroundings were strange to him, and he passed a bad 
night. With the first appearance of morning light he made off 
for the meadows, hoping that the Sabre Cat had tired of his vigil 
and gone away. As he came in sight of the grassy region, at first 
his heart fluttered with joyful anticipation. His friends were not 
there, to be sure, but it would seem that the Sabre Cat was not 
there, either. A stone lay upon the ground; otherwise the meadow 
was bare, except for the grass that grew upon it. The sight of 
that grass filled the little Camel’s heart to bursting. Soon his 
stomach would be in the same condition, provided he got safely 
to it. He quickened his pace and then—the stone suddenly came 
to life and bounded toward bim with the speed of the wind. 

Poebro was half mad with hunger and thirst, but his legs and 
wind were still in working order, and he made good use of them. 
Back he flew into the sand country with the Sabre Cat hot after 
him. 

For a second time Poebro outran his enemy and escaped. 


83 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


The Sabre Cat soon dropped the chase. He merely wished to 
frighten the little Camel and keep him away from the meadows. 
Hunger and thirst would do their work in a short time, and then 
he would have an opportunity to eat his fill of camel flesh. 

Meanwhile Poebro was speeding across the desert, nor did he 
stop until he could no longer see the meadows behind him. He 
had slowed down to a trot and was dropping into a fast walk 
when he saw to the left of him a shallow depression with the 
green tops of something protruding from its bottom. He turned 
in that direction and discovered a puddle of water with long grass 
growing out of it. The next moment he was bending over it, pre¬ 
pared for a long, deep drink. 

The water was so hot and foul it almost made him sick; but 
it was better than nothing. He drank only a little, however; just 
enough to moisten his tongue and throat, then he turned his at¬ 
tention to the grass. Rank? Worse than that. He screwed up 
his face at his first taste of the bitter juice. It was hard work 
chewing it to a pulp, and still worse gulping it down. Even his 
tough, leathery stomach shifted uneasily as it received the first 
consignment. It was empty enough to endure almost anything, 
but that dose of foul water and nasty green mass following 
closely after was certainly straining a point. However, it did its 
best to manage the horrible stuff, hoping that it would never have 
to do so again. 

Poebro ate but sparingly of the grass, just enough to keep 
him alive for another day. Then, when nearly dead with hunger 
and thirst, he again endured the operation of eating and drinking 
at that filthy pool, thus managing to exist for several days. But 
finally he could stand it no longer, and decided to return to the 
meadows, even though this meant another race with the Sabre 
Cat. Perhaps the beast had wearied of his vigil and gone away. 


84 


THE TOY CAMEL 


Poebro hoped so, for this would give him a chance to secure the 
food and drink which he sorely craved. 

So he journeyed across the desert to the meadows and nearly 
wept for joy when he saw that his enemy had disappeared. Of 
course the latter, too, must eat, and no doubt he was away some¬ 
where attending to his own wants. However, there was no telling 
just how soon he would return, and so Poebro made good use of 
the opportunity afforded him. He hurried to the nearest grass 
plot and ate as he had never eaten in all his life. His hunger 
being appeased, he trotted to one of the well-known drinking 
places and attended to his thirst. It was a feast fit for a king. 
Never had he so enjoyed himself. He would have liked to lie 
down and doze, and thus round out a heavenly morning, but of 
course, that was asking too much. The Sabre Cat might return 
at any moment, and Poebro shuddered as he reflected that with 
all that grass and water in his stomach, he would have a hard time 
if it came to another of those nerve-racking runs. 

He could not long stay where he was; that was certain. He 
hated the very idea of going back alone to the sand country; then, 
too, there were his friends to consider. What had become of 
them? They must have gone to the river. He recalled what the 
Running Rhinoceros had said about making friends with the 
Titan Beasts. He pursed his lips scornfully. Yes, it must be 
that the Plains Folk had taken refuge with them. He would go 
and see. 

He crossed the meadows to the woods, meanwhile keeping a 
sharp lookout for the Sabre Cat and other enemies that might be 
roving about. However, he managed to reach the forest unmo¬ 
lested. He was making his way gingerly through the underbrush 
when he heard footsteps approaching. He stopped and remained 
perfectly still so that he might escape being seen or heard. The 

85 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

unknown kept on and was almost abreast of him when Poebro 
gave a squeal of delight and jumped out to meet him. The new¬ 
comer was the Three-toed Horse. Both were mightily pleased 
to meet, for each considered the other his dearest friend. 

“And so you escaped the Sabre Cat,” the Three-toed Horse 
exclaimed joyfully. “It seems too good to be true. Where have 
you been hiding yourself?” 

“In the sand country,” Poebro replied. “The brute would not 
follow me there.” 

“Of course not,” said the other. “The place would not keep a 
squirrel alive. I do not see how you managed to exist.” 

“I know,” the little Camel sniffed, making a horrible face as 
he remembered his daily dose of medicine at that stinking pool. 
“The grass and water are the worst I ever tasted, but even they 
are better than being killed by the Sabre Cat.” 

“Poor old Poebro,” sighed the Three-toed Horse, “you have 
had more than your share of trouble, but soon everything will be 
all right. You must return with me. Matters are now all nicely 
arranged. The River Beasts are our friends, and you need worry 
no more about that wretched Sabre Cat.” 

Poebro’s manner became frigid in an instant. He raised his 
head and gazed coldly at the other. “Your friends?” he sniffed. 
“Who would imagine that you could come to that? I know I 
couldn’t.” 

“I may be less particular than you,” the Three-toed Horse ex¬ 
plained. “Something had to be done, for we knew that sooner 
or later the Sabre Cat would catch us if we remained upon the 
meadows. You chose the sand country; we, the River Beasts, 
and I warrant that we are more satisfied with our choice than you 
are with yours.” 

“How did you arrange it?” 


86 


THE TOY CAMEL 


“Easily enough. The Running Rhinoceros had already pre¬ 
pared the way and only a little care on our part was needed to 
insure complete success. You see, these River Beasts are too 
stupid to learn much of anything. They know how to eat, drink 
and sleep, but not much else. They are stubborn as well as stupid, 
and are about as mean as any animals I know of when they take a 
strong dislike to anyone. On the other hand, they are remarkably 
good-tempered when treated and spoken to kindly. They had 
not enough sense to see just how we did it, but our soft words 
pleased them, and they gave us everything we wanted: food, 
drink and protection from the Sabre Cat.” 

“And dearly bought,” the little Camel muttered in tones of 
deepest scorn. His friend looked at him sharply. 

“Now be sensible, Poebro,” he protested. “Things have 
changed since the old days; and we must change with them. Your 
pride will not help you. It may be too late when you discover 
this. Even Brontus, with all of his dullness, was sharp enough to 
see that you were not with us. He and all the rest know what 
you think of them. The first tiling he said after we had made our 
peace with him, was: ‘What has become of that conceited little 
Camel? No objection to your making your home here, but I will 
have something else to say if he tries to sneak in. W r here is he 
now?’ I told about our brush with the Sabre Cat and how he had 
probably caught and killed you, but Brontus flew into a great 
rage. ‘I know where he is and what he is doing,’ he bellowed. ‘I 
know everything that is going on about here, even on the meadows 
and in the sand country beyond.’ You see,” the little Horse ex¬ 
plained, “if you do not join us soon it will be too late. Brontus 
may never give you another chance.” 

But Poebro only shook his head obstinately. “Those River 
Beasts are more than I can endure,” he said. “Imagine my treat- 


87 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

ing them as equals. I will have nothing to do with them. I 
won’t go.” 

His friend pleaded and strove to reason with him, but in vain. 
The little Camel had neither hunger, thirst nor the Sabre Cat to 
worry him at the moment, and he was thinking only of his con¬ 
tempt for the River Beasts. Things had not yet come to such a 
pass that he need demean himself by associating with such low 
and vulgar animals. No use arguing; he would live his life alone 
if he had to. 

There seemed nothing more to he said, so the two parted. Now 
that he had learned how matters stood, the little Camel returned 
to the meadows. He had a faint hope that he might be permitted 
to remain there unmolested, for he saw no sign of the Sabre Cat. 
He was even thinking of lying down upon the cool grass for a 
rest when, swish! something shot through the air and frightened 
him almost to death. Away he flew, only to slow up after a short 
run on discovering that it was merely a large Mink that had so 
startled him. However, this incident ruffled his nerves consider¬ 
ably, and when a bit later a pack of Civet Dogs rushed out at him 
from behind some bushes, he considered it high time for him to 
get back into the sand country, where he belonged. It seemed 
only a moment since he had last eaten and slaked his thirst, but 
his recent run and the scorching sun had heated him greatly and 
already he was beginning to feel the need of food and drink. 
However, he dared not return to the meadows, for those Civet 
Dogs had not yet gone away, and no doubt the Sabre Cat was 
hiding somewhere near. 

“I have that ill-smelling pool, anyhow,” he consoled himself. 
“If worst comes to worst, I can get along -with that for a time.” 
He turned his steps in that direction to make sure it was still 
there and could be depended upon. To his surprise and constema- 


88 


THE TOY CAMEL 


tion, he saw a cat-like figure sprawled upon the sand beside it, 
and fast asleep. That figure was the Sabre Cat. “That Camel 
has found water somewhere,” he determined as the days passed 
and Poebro managed to exist away from the meadows; so he had 
ventured into the desert that very day and discovered what he was 
after. Poebro’s tracks were plainly visible. “I can rest here and 
catch him when he returns. If he does not return before long I 
will go back to the meadows and find him.” 

This seemed a very good plan, so the Sabre Cat lay down to 
rest. Unfortunately for him, he not only rested but fell so 
soundly asleep that Poebro had time to hurry away before his 
persecutor could awake and follow him. 

The little Camel was indeed in dire straits. His enemy now 
guarded not only the meadows but the pool, too. Bad as the lat¬ 
ter was, Poebro would have given anything to possess it undis¬ 
turbed. He tried to find another, but without success. Drinking 
holes in the desert were decidedly scarce, for little rain fell there, 
and what did fall dried up faster than it could accumulate. The 
days passed. He made several attempts to reach the meadows, 
waiting until night so that he could slip up to them without being 
seen. Here, too, he failed. Those dogs and the Sabre Cat saw 
better in the dark than they did by day. Poebro was taking des¬ 
perate chances now, for a lingering death awaited him unless he 
soon obtained food and water. But he was rapidly growing 
weaker and one night after a long run across the desert with the 
hot breath of the Sabre Cat scorching his heels, he gave up the 
hopeless struggle and decided to throw himself upon the mercy of 
the Kiver Beasts. They had received his friends and would re¬ 
ceive him, too, when they learned what he had endured from the 
flesh-eaters. Yes, he would swallow his pride. He would speak 
gently to the River Beasts and treat them more kindly than they 


89 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


deserved. He was worn out in body and spirit and could no 
longer struggle against Fate. Once having made this decision 
he felt really much relieved. He would be courteous and kind 
and treat the River Beasts as his equals, and yet this in a manner 
becoming his dignity. So he crossed the desert until he came 
within sight of the meadows. Here he waited until a favorable 
chance presented itself for a dash across them, then away he flew 
over the grass to the woods. Once there he proceeded cautiously 
to avoid a clash with any Giant Pig he might meet. All went 
well with him, and he got safely through. He was trotting to the 
river bank when a loud voice bellowed him to halt. He stopped, 
and a huge, ungainly animal came lumbering toward him. It 
was Brontus, leader of the Beasts of Titan. 


Ill 

Brontus was feeling out of sorts. The flies had been torment¬ 
ing him and something he had eaten lay heavy upon his mind and 
stomach. He was in a far from jovial mood, and, having ob¬ 
served the Little Camel’s approach, was now ambling along the 
hank to intercept him. Where his line of travel crossed that of 
Poebro, he stopped and watched the latter out of one piggy eye. 
It made him cross-eyed to use two when looking at anything 
head-on because of his V-shaped nose horn arrangement, which 
obstructed his direct line of vision. 

“Here comes that proud-and-haughty little Camel,” he 
sneered. “I can make a good guess what he wants. Will he get it? 
Not unless he wallows in the mud and does a few other things to 
rid himself of his fine airs.” 

Poebro came jauntily on until he was within several paces of 


90 


THE TOY CAMEL 


the huge Titan Beast. The latter blocked his further progress, 
so he stopped. “I have come to join my friends,” he said. “Life 
upon the meadows is impossible while the flesh-eaters are there. 
The woods are filled with great ugly pigs. The river is all that is 
left for me. I will disturb neither you nor your friends, and now 
we can all live peacefully together.” Poebro spoke calmly and 
graciously. A genuine feeling of good-will prompted him, for 
he was determined to forgive and forget the past. Brontus did 
not look at the matter from this point of view, however. His 
little eyes blinked wickedly. 

“Willing to converse with your inferiors, are you?” he 
grunted. “Aren’t you afraid of being seen here talking to me? 
Your reputation will be ruined if anyone hears of it.” 

Poebro detected the biting sarcasm in the other’s voice but he 
had made his decision and was determined to abide by it. “I no 
longer care what other animals think,” he replied firmly. “I am 
■willing to talk with you and nobody will know that I am ashamed 
to be seen doing it. Things have changed and now I must change 
with them.” 

These few sentences cost Poebro much effort but they were 
delivered whole-heartedly and without the slightest suggestion of 
bitterness; and yet,strange to say, the words and the tone in which 
they were uttered, irritated Brontus exceedingly. It was as 
though the business end of a hornet had punctured his thick hide. 

“So good of you to come and all that,” he mocked. “Your 
affairs must be in a sad state to drive you to it. What is the 
trouble? Too much rich eating and drinking?” 

“No indeed,” Poebro hastened to assure him. “I don’t get 
enough. There is nothing left for me since all these strangers 
came here and crowded me out.” 

Brontus felt his rage rising fast. 


91 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“Crowded you out, eh?” he squealed. “Never have I listened 
to such insolence. You can’t deceive me, for I know all about 
you. What of the warm, delightful, sand country that you have 
appropriated for your own use without consulting anyone? It 
is more territory than all the rest of us have put together.” 

“But who wants such a place?” the little Camel protested. 
“How can I live there? What do you expect me to eat and 
drink? Sand and hot air?” 

Brontus gulped down the anger that would keep coming up 
in spite of him. 

“You want it or you would not go there,” he bellowed. “As 
for your diet, what business is that of mine? You are old enough 
to take care of yourself. I still say that you have appropriated 
far more land than you are entitled to. I suppose that next you 
will be asking me for this river.” 

“Some of it, yes; but so very little,” was the answer. 

Brontus almost choked with the rage that now consumed him. 

“Isn’t there little enough in the sand country?” he roared. 
“Why don’t you stay out there, now that you have grown ac¬ 
customed to it? It is a wonderful place; plenty of room, quiet, 
hot air and no end of nice, soft sand. Why, I would go there 
myself if it only had more water,” and the big brute forgot his 
rage long enough to chuckle at his own humor. 

“Yes, water,” said Poebro, “that’s what it needs, hut there is 
none. Here is the only place where I can get it.” 

“Who said you could get it here?” Brontus demanded. “I 
know I didn’t and I am the one who manages this river.” 

The little Camel’s heart sank within him like lead. It was 
very weak of him to climb down from his lofty pedestal hut he 
was tired and discouraged and his troubles seemed without end. 

“I have never injured any of you,” he said piteously. “What 


92 


^/v- 


4r/ r£,. > 


W, » - — 

\nsL 



THE TITAN BEAST’S ANGER BEGAN TO COOL 






















STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


harm can it do you now if I come and drink from this river? 
Won’t you let me have some?” 

“Um; well, that’s different.” The Titan Beast’s anger began 
to cool. It was as the Running Rhinoceros had said; he was not 
a bad sort at all if managed just right. He could get along with 
a crocodile if it did not rub him the wrong way. He really ad¬ 
mired Poebro’s spunk and if the latter would only drop his lofty 
airs, the two might be good friends. He remained silent, turning 
the matter over in his mind, watching Poebro with his head cocked 
on one side. 

The little Camel stood silently awaiting his answer. The 
features of the burly Titan Beast remained stolid and entirely 
devoid of expression. He was thinking and when an animal of 
his calibre stopped to think, he consumed much time. Poebro 
sighed. And so this was his answer. He could expect no favors 
from the surly brute. His head drooped dejectedly; he sighed, 
then turned and walked slowly away. 

“Wait a moment!” 

The little Camel halted as bidden and faced about. “Don’t 
be in such a hurry,” Brontus grunted in his softest tones. “I was 
considering the matter and possibly I can arrange it. But there 
are conditions. It remains for you to decide.” 

“Conditions?” Poebro noted the changed tone with con¬ 
siderable surprise. The ill-mannered grunts were now soft and 
wheedling. Brontus always appeared at his best when he wore 
the crabbed and piggish air, common to his kind. He could be 
genial without one’s guessing it to look at him but when he en¬ 
deavored to appear genial, he invariably made a mess of it. The 
little Camel’s suspicions were instantly aroused; he listened at¬ 
tentively. 

“Yes,” leered Brontus, with head drawn back into the rolls 


THE TOY CAMEL 


of fat about 'his neck, “I bebeve it can be arranged. You can 
drink and eat all you want and my friends and I will see to it 
that none of the flesh-eaters harms you. For your part, there are 
a few things to be observed to show your good faith.” 

“And those few things are?” 

“Simple matters to convince us that you now see the error 
of-your ways. First you must have a mudbath—a roll in the 
wallows so that you will be well plastered from head to foot.” 

Poebro winced. He was about to reply angrily when he 
thought of the Sabre Cat. He gulped down his pride and an¬ 
swered, “Yes, if I must,” and he came forward to proceed with 
the ordeal at once. 

“Um-m, but that is not all,” said Brontus. “After your mud- 
bath—and there is to be no washing it off, mind you—I will take 
you around to meet my friends.” 

Poebro bit his lips, swallowed the lump in his throat and an¬ 
swered bravely, “Yes, I will go with you.” 

“And to each of my friends you must apologize most humbly 
for your past conduct. Only then will they know that the little 
Camel considers himself no better than they.” 

“And what if I refuse ?” 

“You will never be permitted to come here again,” squealed 
the huge Titan Beast, his soft manner suddenly changing to rage. 
“Do you mean to say that you dare refuse?” He took a step for¬ 
ward. Poebro backed off several paces. He too was furious. 

“I certainly do,” he cried. “I have humiliated myself too much 
already, standing here talking to you. As for your fat, ill-man¬ 
nered brood, I would die rather than be seen with any of them. 
You may keep your river and everything else you have stolen.” 
As he said this, he glanced behind him to make sure that his line 
of retreat remained open. Brontus was nearly beside himself 


95 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


with anger. He would have chastised Poebro for his insults but 
he knew that the little Camel was too nimble for him to catch. 

“Go and feed your miserable little body to the Sabre Cat,” 
he stormed. “You will never get a drop of the river water as 
long as I live.” 

Poebro turned and began walking to the forest without deign¬ 
ing a reply. Brontus squealed mockingly after him: 

“When you reach the meadows take a pool along with you to 
the sand country. Otherwise you will surely be thirsty.” 

“Well, I did the best I could,” sighed Poebro as he made his 
way through the forest. “Probably that ugly brute would have 
made my life unbearable, even if I had done all he demanded 
of me.” 

The little Camel had now burned all his bridges behind him, 
as he well knew. It was the sand country or nothing, and as he 
was not ready to die just yet,he determined to manage somehow. 
Before venturing across the meadows, he filled himself with food 
and drink. This done he made a careful survey, and finding all 
clear at the moment, dashed off to the sand dunes and safety. 

The hot, dry desert was anything but inviting. Its vast 
emptiness and desolation were enough to deter the bravest spirit. 
Poebro was a timid little body. The very thought of being near 
the Sabre Cat filled him with terror. The River Beasts inspired 
only his disgust; but the one sentiment was, in its way, as bad as 
the other. 

Nobody would have suspected it to look at him, and yet in 
some respects Poebro was really a marvel of daring and desperate 
courage. No longer could he depend upon the meadows or river. 
The sand country must be his home. With a bold heart he 
plunged far into the desert, subsisting upon almost nothing and 

96 


THE TOY CAMEL 


keeping his eyes open at all times in the hope of finding ways 
and means to make a living. 

Just about when he was ready to drop from hunger, thirst 
and exhaustion, he came upon a patch of fertile country. It was 
but a patch, a tiny island in a sea of sand, but it proved his salva¬ 
tion. The grass was fresh and sweet; the few trees gave him 
shelter from the scorching sun and a tiny brooklet gushing from 
the sand afforded him an abundance of cool drinking water. This 
haven of refuge or oasis was a revelation to him. With spots like 
this one to come to, the desert was not such a bad place, after all. 
Having established his headquarters, he explored deeper into the 
sand country. Fertile patches similar to the one he had discov¬ 
ered were few and far between; so far that he dared not leave one 
to go to another. And yet, if he could only manage to carry a 
supply of water and food with him, a trip from one oasis to an¬ 
other would not have been a matter at all difficult to arrange. 

Poebro’s new home was a beautiful spot, but a prison never¬ 
theless. If he were compelled to live in that one place the rest of 
his life, eventually he would go mad or die of loneliness. “Would 
that I did not have to drink so often,” he sighed; “but in this hot 
drv country I need more water than ever, and I cannot carry 
this brook around with me when I want to go anywhere.” This 
made him think of what Brontus had last said about taking one 
of the meadow pools with him. “Not a bad idea,” he thought. 
“Of course I couldn’t think of earning so much water. An extra 
supply, eyen a little, would he enough. But what have I to carry 
it in? The only place I know of is my stomach, and I have no 
room there to spare.” 

However, his stomach could he stretched a bit when it saw 
the need of stretching. Poebro had to find extra room there some¬ 
how, and Necessity is the Mother of Invention. Before ventur- 

97 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


ing forth into the desert, he took a big drink to satisfy his ordi¬ 
nary thirst and another drink after it, such as a long journey in 
the dry country required. His stomach was not slow in respond¬ 
ing to this water treatment. Gradually it expanded until Poebro 
had an extra water compartment rigged up in one corner of it. 
It was like the little gallon tank in the big gasoline reservoir of 
an automobile—a last resort and enough to get home on if the 
big tank ran dry. Poebro was the original inventor, but nobody 
ever gave him credit for it. He had his own way of arranging 
the details after the main principle was established. Much time 
was spent in perfecting it, but finally he became a regular water- 
tank going about on four legs. It was a grand and glorious 
scheme. Before leaving one oasis he first took a long, deep drink 
to care for his immediate thirst, then a second big drink after it to 
fill his storage tank. This latter provided for future needs and 
carried him safely to the next oasis. 

The matter of food also gave him considerable concern, al¬ 
though it was far less serious than the water problem. It seemed 
as though there might be some way of storing an extra food sup¬ 
ply, too, for traveling long distances. He had already used up 
the available space inside of him, but he had learned by this time 
that with persistence his body could be persuaded to do what was 
demanded of it. True, the space in his stomach was all used up, 
but there was nothing outside of it that would prevent further 
expansion. Accordingly he set about to make room upon his 
back. In time it grew to be a pronounced hump. It detracted 
somewhat from his former graceful figure, but he could not help 
that. This hump, although not a thing of beauty, was a great 
improvement, for it carried food enough to last him for a week. 
Having succeeded so well thus far, he made another change. He 
permitted his two-toed hoofs to become encased in pads of flesh 


98 



LAUNCHING THE “SHIP OF THE DESERT.” 


fr-r. , 











STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


and calloused skin, thus protecting his feet from the hot sand 
and securing a more comfortable footing. 

Strange how circumstances alter cases. This same sand coun¬ 
try, which at first threatened his undoing, was now his paradise. 
The keel was laid and the finished Camel, or “Ship of the Desert,” 
rose rapidly upon the ways. Somewhere near the Rocky Moun¬ 
tains was the scene of his launching. His range was the length 
and breadth of our United States. His home is now in far-off 
Asia and Africa. If he had not gone there, things might now be 
much different. Probably the tawney Arabs and dusky Ethio¬ 
pians never stop to think of that, nor does it occur to them that 
the Camel, which they set so much store by, was American bom 
and bred from little Poebro the Toy Camel who, ages ago, left 
the fertile meadows of South Dakota to make his home among 
the sand dunes. 


99 


INTRODUCTION TO MANATUS 


Rocks of the Less Recent (Miocene) period which may be 
found in many localities of the western United States, contain 
many bones of three-toed horses, long-necked camels, hornless 
rhinoceri and many other kinds of land beasts, but only on the 
Atlantic Coast is there much to be learned about sea mammals. 
Comparatively few warm-bodied, hair-covered beasts took to 
water entirely and the bones of most of them now lie deep in the 
ocean bed. However, there is one place where the shore-line ex¬ 
tended much farther inland during Less Recent (Miocene) times 
than it does now and here ancient beach deposits have accumu¬ 
lated. These, the Calvert Cliffs of Maryland, are south of An¬ 
napolis on the western side of Chesapeake Bay. The waters of 
the bay beating against the foot of the cliffs have undermined 
and cut away great sections, leaving their animal relics strewn 
upon the present narrow beaches. Shark-teeth are everywhere 
in evidence, representing many varieties of the Shark family; 
dog-fishes, sting-rays, hammerheads and huge examples of the 
modern man-eating type. Their skeletons of cartilage soon dis¬ 
solved after death and left no trace but their enameled teeth 
which fairly litter the beaches are sufficient evidence of their once 
great number and variety. However, sharks belong to an ancient 
order of the Fish family and as our concern is with mammals, we 
will pass on. The Calvert Cliffs contain bones of whales; tooth¬ 
less animals like our modern Bowfin and Beluga, also toothed 
species such as the Sperm, Porpoise, Dolphin and Killer. All 


100 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


were mammals, about the only ones to live entirely in the sea 
except for a solitary individual who has left but one or two bones 
to identify him. Whales were flesh-eaters, but this lone creature 
fed entirely upon plants and was therefore in a class by himself. 
His flippers, which outwardly resembled big thumbless mittens, 
had their wrist and finger bones arranged like those of a man; 
and so we call him Manatus, which, translated into pure English, 
means “he of the human hand.” 


101 


.1 


MANATUS 

THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 

Once upon a time, over one million years ago, the site of 
Washington, our national capital, faced directly upon the At¬ 
lantic Ocean. Southeastern Maryland was at that time sub¬ 
merged and formed a huge sandbar on the eastern side of Chesa¬ 
peake Bay. A river flowing southeastward somewhere below 
Washington, emptied into the bay- This river has long since 
disappeared—filled in with the accumulations of ages—and few 
know that it ever existed. The lower portion near its mouth was 
a broad estuary gradually contracting to a narrow stream farther 
inland near its source. This upper portion was the River of 
Mystery. 

Here dense woodlands formed almost inaccessible barriers on 
both sides of the restricted channel. The tall, closely-packed trees 
extended their branches and leaf-masses from either bank, thus 
forming a vaulted roof, thick and impenetrable to outside light. 
Beneath it the river flowed lazily onward, a thick, sluggish sewer 
more dismal and forbidding than the rank mustiness through 
which it crept. The silence was unbroken, except for the faint 
sighing of leaves overhead and an occasional plup, as some loath¬ 
some denizen of this place of darkness dropped into the murky 
pool from overhanging branch or vine. 

The River of Mystery seemed in truth a River of Death; and 
yet eyes keen enough to penetrate far into its depths, might have 


102 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


observed a dark form gliding downstream over its bed, leaving 
only an occasional air-bubble upon the surface above and behind 
it, to mark its course. It was a large torpedo-shaped body of 
almost fish-like form; but it is not given for fishes to leave air- 
bubbles behind them such as do mammals or creatures "with air- 
breathing lungs and warm red blood. 

Straight and swift as an arrow, the unknown sped down¬ 
stream without once coming to the surface. Gradually the river 
widened and the leaf-arch above it parted to admit the warm sun¬ 
shine. The two shore-lines diverged and subsided into low-lying 
levees, becoming rapidly denuded of forest growth as the mys¬ 
terious submarine creature sped swiftly down the central channel. 

Another half league from brackish to salty water and he 
would have passed the mouth of the estuary and entered the At¬ 
lantic Ocean. But at this point his pace slackened and he de¬ 
flected his course upward as though to greet the warm sun rising 
from the vast white-capped expanse of water toward which he 
swam. The torpedo-body rose slowly to the surface and a round 
pudgy head emerged into the open air, noiselessly and without 
splash or ripple as though the water had been freshly oiled. A 
pair of eyes almost buried in blubber and bristles gazed long and 
wistfully at the open sea. 

The waves breaking on the margin of the estuary seemed to 
be beckoning. The murmur of their soft voices upon the beaches 
sounded, “Come, come,” but, although the unknown looked at 
the siren waves and listened to their pleading, he merely snorted 
and shook his head. Not yet; the ocean waves must wait for their 
proper time. His gaze slowly shifted from them to the south¬ 
western border of the estuary—the last land refuge between him¬ 
self and the broad Atlantic. Two thick flaps on either side of his 
muzzle lifted and he sucked in mighty breaths of air through 


103 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


widely distended nostrils, then the nose-flaps closed, the round 
head settled beneath the waves and the mysterious swimmer dis¬ 
appeared in the depths of the estuary as noiselessly as he had 
emerged. 

The southwestern shore of the estuary was sun-swept and 
bare, in marked contrast to the dark forested banks of its more 
inland portion, the River of Mystery. It was a place of rocks, 
the latter rising abruptly from the narrow sandy beach; also it 
was a rookery where all manner of water birds made their homes. 
Two of them, Puflina the Gull, and Sula the Booby, had flown 
down from the Rookery and were standing side by side upon the 
sand watching the ripples which occasionally washed over their 
webbed feet. 

Puffina the Gull was much the smaller bird, although her 
wing expanse nigh equaled that of her larger companion. She 
was a genuine sea lover; one who flew far out over the water, 
while Sula was an ungainly individual, who fancied the ocean 
merely for the fish that were in it. She really feared wind and 
wave, and therefore rarely ventured beyond sight of land. Puf¬ 
fina and Sula were two of the Rookery’s most active spirits. 
They were ardent fisherwomen, too, and nobody could tell them 
anything new about the finny creatures or any other living things 
that swam in the sea. They were a restless pair—confirmed 
gossips and busybodies of the marine feathered world. Although 
mischievous, nobody could really call them bad birds, for they did 
little harm and often served many useful purposes, keeping the 
beaches clear of dead fish and such things. However, their sharp 
tongues were forever wagging and sometimes caused no end of 
trouble. 

At the moment we come upon them, both birds had recently 


104 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


indulged in their regular morning fish diet, and now that their 
appetites were appeased, they seemed in a bad way for some¬ 
thing to do. They had stood there upon the beach, inactive for 
at least five minutes, and that is saying a good deal, as far as they 
were concerned. 

Puffina was racking her brain for some new form of amuse¬ 
ment. “Everything is so dreadfully quiet,” she whistled, “I have 
half a mind to fly out into the ocean and see what the Whales are 
doing.” 

“The Sharks are about as far as I vail get,” said the Booby; 
“but you won’t find me skimming the water near them, as you 
do with the Whales. They are just mean enough to bite one’s 
feet off if given a chance.” 

“The Toothed Whales are almost as bad,” replied the Gull. 

“They will eat-” She stopped suddenly and said in a low 

voice, “Where did that creature come from? See how it stares 
at us.” 

Both birds gazed at that which protruded from the water sev¬ 
eral rods distant. They had been gazing some time in that direc¬ 
tion, but the object had appeared so unostentatiously that sev¬ 
eral moments elapsed before they noticed it. 

“A seal,” muttered Sula. 

She judged wrongly. Although the round object was a head, 
it differed greatly from a seal’s. The small eyes were almost 
hidden behind a huge fleshy muzzle sown thickly with heavy 
bristles. This muzzle was split from top to bottom, forming two 
bulbous halves. The head now rose higher from the water, giving 
a view of the neck and shoulders, which were no more than a 
continuation of the thick round body, to which were attached a 
pair of hand-like flippers. The unknown sat, or treaded water, 
with these hand-flippers folded across his chest. In this position 

105 



STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


he remained motionless, staring at the two birds. It was as 
though the Old Man of the Sea had arisen from the depths to tell 
of their dark secrets. 

Sula and Puffina were almost overcome with surprise. They 
forgot what their wings and feet were made for and remained 
rooted to the beach like tree-stumps, unable to move. And yet 
it was not fear they felt—rather awe of the mysterious stranger 
who had appeared before them so quietly and unheralded. By 
this time the unknown had set himself in motion, and was drifting 
slowly toward the beach. Now the lower portion of his body 
grounded in the shallow water and he settled into a horizontal 
position; then, with much effort, he dragged himself up the sand 
until he was high and dry. 

Puffina and Sula watched him and his actions with much in¬ 
terest. He was a water animal, as easily could be seen by the 
fuss he made moving along the sand. His efforts in that respect 
were attended with much puffing and blowing. His form in 
general was similar to that of a seal, and he had flippers, too, 
although their details were peculiar and unseal-like. They looked 
like hands encased in big mittens; also the rear part of him was 
distinctive enough, even at a glance, to put him in a class by 
himself. 

He had no hair, hind limbs or fins of anv kind, and in this 
respect he might have passed as a small whale had it not been for 
his tail. This was attached to his body in true whale style, flat to 
the water—not upright as in the sharks and fishes; but instead of 
the broad double-bladed fluke worn by all up-to-date whales, his 
tail was as round and flexible as a palmleaf fan. 

Sula and Puffina absorbed all of these details while the 
stranger rested and gazed at them with ponderous dignity. He 
said nothing; and the two birds, who were given to much squawk- 

106 



THE STRANGER MEETS THE TWO BIRDS 







































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


ing and fluttering on the slightest provocation, soon became ner¬ 
vous at his continued oppressive silence. Finally, when he closed 
his eyes as though preparing to doze, Sula could no longer re¬ 
strain herself. 

“Who—what are you?” she asked. 

The unknown stared somewhere through and past her. 
“Ump,” he grunted languidly, and again he closed his eyes. 

“Ump,” squaw r ked Sula in a rage. “If there is anything 
else you can say, please say it.” 

To this the stranger showed no resentment whatever. He 
did not even open his eyes again as he grunted in a deep voice: 
“Go away and let me sleep.” 

This was the last straw. Never had Sula been so exas¬ 
perated; and that is saying a good deal, for the Petrels and Cor¬ 
morants and Pelicans sometimes nearly teased the life out of her. 
She sprang into the air and flew squawking away without so 
much as saying good-bye to Pufflna, who had always been her best 
friend. The Gull was not a little amused at her companion’s 
discomfiture. 

“He seems a simple and peaceable sort,” she thought. “I see 
no reason to be angry with him. If I remain here until he 
awakens, perhaps he will feel more like talking and I can learn 
more about him.” 

So she waited around for w r hat seemed to her like an eternity 
of time. However, the unknown awoke at last. The first thing 
he saw was the Gull standing within two yards of his nose. 

“Are you hungry?” asked Pufflna. “Now that you have 
rested, how 'would you like something to eat?” 

This was a sort of hit-or-miss way of starting a conversation. 
Perhaps the unknown’s generous waist-girth suggested it; but 
anyhow it struck home. 


108 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


“Eat?” was his animated response. “I certainly will. Where 
are the feeding grounds?” 

“There," answered Puffina, gazing toward the ocean. “The 
waters are filled with fish.” 

“Fish? Ur-r, ugh! I never eat such things,” replied the un¬ 
known, screwing up his face into a wrinkled knot. His eyes 
rolled wildly and finally came to rest, looking at the Gull criss¬ 
cross over his nose. The two halves of his upper lip parted 
widely and then came together again with a loud swat. Puffina 
was startled, to say the least. Whales, birds, fishes; none of the 
creatures she knew, ever made faces like that. Graduallv the 
stranger’s expression resumed its former stolidity. He opened 
his mouth vide, thereby displaying a total absence of front teeth, 
and said in a deep voice: “No, I never eat fish. I am a vegetable- 
feeder and prefer seaweed growing green and fresh beneath the 
waters.” 

Seaweed? Puffina was astonished. No animal she knew of 
ate such stuff. Her curiosity became overpowering. “Who are 
you and what brought you here?” she inquired. 

“What brought me? I wonder.” The unknown was silent 
a few moments, gazing intently toward the ocean. “It seems as 
though I heard a voice calling,” he said earnestly. “It was the 
same voice that called me to the water, when long, long ago I 
made my home upon the land.” 

“A land animal; are you—were you one?” the Gull asked. 

“Perhaps,” was the answer, delivered dubiously and in tones 
of deep regret; “but that is past and done with. Again I hear 
that voice calling me to go and do it.” 

“Go where and do what?” 

“My life has ever been a quiet and simple one,” the unknown 
replied" dreamily. “Never have I dared venture beyond the 

109 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


River’s dark cramped confines into the vast unknown. But now 
something urges. The foam-topped w T aves and ocean breezes are 
calling me. The bite of the sea w r ater makes my blood boil.” 

It was as though a wave of light had swept the darkness away 
from before the Gull’s eyes. 

“The sea, the sea!” she exclaimed joyfully. “Now I know 
how you feel. It means more to me than life itself. You who 
have known only the w r arm, tasteless river will never return to it 
wdien once you have lived in the ocean water. Come, I will fly 
to it and point you the w r ay.” 

The stranger shivered and looked at the sand beneath him. 
“I cannot: I dare not,” he mumbled. “I seek and vet I dread a 
change.” 

“A change for the better,” said the Gull. “You will not want 
for companions. There may be many there of your own kind.” 

The stranger shuddered and mumbled something unintelligi¬ 
ble, then began backing toward the w r ater. Puflina saw that he 
was about to depart. It suddenly occurred to her that in a few 
moments he would be gone without her learning who or what 
he was. “Your own people may be there,” she said. “I know 
most of the ocean dwellers. Are you a seal?” 

Evidently not, for the unknown displayed no interest. He 
had shifted his position until now he floated full length in the 
shallow water. 

“A whale, perhaps?” 

The unknown- shook his head. He had now backed to beyond 
his depth and his body was in an upright position with only its 
upper part visible. 

“Porpoise?” the Gull fairly screamed; and for the third time 
she aroused no interest. The unknown’s nose-flaps lifted. In a 
moment he would be gone. 


110 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


“Then, who are you?” cried the now thoroughly aroused Gull. 
“How do you call yourself, you who claim to be neither porpoise, 
seal nor whale? Tell me quickly before you go.” 

The unknown’s nostrils gaped wide and sucked in a long deep 
breath, then the flap-valves closed. 

“Manatus,” he replied in a low voice and his head slowly sank 
beneath the surface, leaving not a ripple to mark the spot where 
it had gone down. 


II 

Puffina waited for a time upon the beach, hoping that the 
mysterious stranger might reappear; but in vain. He was gone, 
and for all she knew, he might never return. However, she had 
learned something about him, little as it was, and now she was 
eager to tell her friend Sula the news, so she flew off, soaring high 
in the heavens, imtil she espied the Booby perched upon a ledge 
several miles south of the Rookery. Sula’s anger had not cooled 
in the slightest degree. The Gull discovered this as she swooped 
down and settled upon the rock beside her. 

“I have learned something about that odd creature,” said 
Puffina. “His name is Manatus, whatever that means. He eats 
seaweed, nothing else, and can make the queerest face I ever saw.” 

Sula said nothing. Her anger still sizzled above the boiling 
point; however, she kept both ears wide open. 

“I learned something else, too,” the Gull resumed. “He is 
a fresh-water animal who thinks he would like to live in the ocean, 
and yet, for some reason or other, he dreads the change. He 
seems to be a simple and harmless creature, neither porpoise, seal 
nor whale. I have an idea, however, that he would get along 


111 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


nicely with the Whales, that is, the big ones. I believe I will go 
and tell them about him.” 

“Do,” squawked Sula. “They vail smash him with their big 
tails and I, for one, will be glad of it.” 

“Not if I prepare the way for him,” the Gull replied. “I 
will tell them that he is a new ruler come amongst them. Whales 
will believe anything. I can easily make them think that he is 
brave and strong, in spite of his harmless appearance. The big 
whales have grown so accustomed to being bullied by the little 
toothed ones that his small size will not count against him.” 

“But the Toothed Whales—they do not believe all they see 
and hear,” squawked the Booby. “Your friend Manatus will 
have a hard time with them.” 

“They need know nothing about him,” said the Gull. “I will 
say nothing to them nor to the Sharks, either. That would be 
carrying the joke too far. I do not wish to see him hurt. If all 
goes well it will be great fun and no harm done. The big Whales 
will soon have something to interest them, or I am very much 
mistaken.” 

“You may well be mistaken,” thought Sula, as her friend dew 
away. “I detest this Manatus, and if I have my way he will soon 
find the sea too hot to hold him.” With that she, too, dew off, 
sailing low and far behind the Gull, so that the latter would not 
suspect what she was doing. 

Puffina winged her way seaward, dying straight and high. 
She sped over the deep channel of Chesapeake Bay and reached 
the outer bar, a broad, sandy shoal, whose half-hidden presence 
could he seen beneath the water from overhead, a broad hand of 
gray extending far to the north and south. It was a barrier over 
which few large marine animals dared venture. On the land side 
of the bar to the south, Puffina saw many green fish-like forms 


112 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


thrashing about and cutting the water with their long back fins. 
These were the Sharks, sea wolves, and the terror of all finny crea¬ 
tures. Further seaward, numerous small specks darkened the 
ocean surface. Far to the north of them was a group of larger 
specks which, to the Gull, appeared like black blotches among the 
white-capped waves. The two groups—specks and blotches— 
were whales playing about upon the ocean surface. The former 
were the Toothed Whales, dolphins, sperms, killers and the like, 
many of them hearing long, bony snouts after the manner of the 
modern Swordfish. Puffina turned from them and swooped 
down upon the dark blotches farther to the north. These were 
the Toothless or Whalebone Whales, much larger than the 
toothed variety, but far more peaceable in their habits. The feel¬ 
ing between them and their smaller brethren had grown more or 
less strained, and the two groups had little to do with each other. 
The toothed killers and dolphins had taken to secret warfare 
upon others of their kind; therefore their less pugnacious relatives 
had withdrawn from their society. It had not yet occurred to the 
large whales that their smaller cousins made up with their fierce¬ 
ness what they lacked in size and might soon develop into formid¬ 
able enemies. A mere slap of a fluked tail would send any one of 
them to kingdom come, so the big whales thought little about the 
matter and proceeded to get all the fun out of life they could. 

The Toothless or Whalebone Whales were huge creatures 
ranging from forty to eighty feet long. Hundreds of individu¬ 
als representing more than a score of species were gathered to¬ 
gether. Their mouths and heads were enormous, being nearly 
a third as large as their bodies. They wore no hair-covering; hut 
thick coats of oily blubber served the same purpose, shutting the 
sea-water from their pores and keeping their bodies warm. 

They were having a grand time when Puffina descended from 


113 




STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

on high and skimmed over the waves among them. Every now 
and then one of them would turn tail up and dive to a tremendous 
depth, coming up twenty or thirty minutes later for a breath of 
fresh air. Although shaped somewhat like fishes, they were not 
fishes but mammals, the same as horses and cows. Having real 
lungs instead of gills, they would have drowned miserably had 
they stayed too long beneath the water. Their nostrils were small 
holes high upon their foreheads, but it was astonishing how quickly 
they could empty their lungs through them and take in a fresh 
air supply. It was surprising, too, how long one breath sufficed, 
but they had lived long in the ocean and grown used to it with 
continued practice. 

Puffina skimmed in and out over them like a fly among a herd 
of cows. Finally she caught sight of Balena and singled her out 
as the one first to hear the news. 

Balena was a Bowfin, the largest of the Whalebone Whales. 
Her upper jaws were lined with baleen or rows of fringed food 
strainers instead of teeth. She was at lunch as Puffina came 
upon her and so the Gull had a fine opportunity to learn just how 
a toothless whale fed itself. 

Balena moved slowly through the water with the greater part 
of her body submerged and her mouth wide open. It was a 
tremendous mouth, large enough to hold about a million of the 
tiny shell-fish that swarmed near the ocean’s surface. When 
enough of them were inside of it to make it worth her while, she 
closed her jaws together, rolled over on her side and shifted her 
tongue. That shift of the tongue ejected the water from her 
mouth hut not the tiny shell-fish. They were held back by the 
baleen food-strainers and then swallowed at leisure. 

Puffina was on good terms with the big whale and often flew 
out to sea to pass the time of day with her. After circling several 


114 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


times over her, she alighted upon Balena’s head. In a few words 
she told of her meeting with the mysterious Manatus who lived in 
the water, breathed air and ate nothing but seaweed. Her eyes 
twinkled mischievously as she added: 

‘‘The ocean has never known a creature so fierce and strong, 
although ordinarily he appears so calm and good-natured that 
none would suspect how formidable he really is. He will soon 
appear in the ocean to rule over it.” 

Balena was amazed. She hastily gulped down a million shell¬ 
fish with a speed that almost choked her. She gasped so with 
astonishment that the Gull was fairly drenched with damp spray 
spouting from the Whale’s forehead noseholes. 

“A stranger come to rule over us?” cried Balena. “Indeed, I 
am amazed! Fierce and strong, you say? Ugh; but calm and 
good-natured ordinarily—that’s better. I detest quarrels and 
quarrelsome animals. You may be certain, he will find us peace¬ 
able enough. It is too wonderful and interesting to believe. 
Now you must excuse me while I tell my people this remarkable 
news.” 

So saying, with a whisk of her mighty tail, she was darting 
about among her people, leaving the Gull to fly back home again. 

“Come you Bowfins,” she bellowed. “Come you Hump Backs 
and Bottle Noses and all the rest of you. The Gull has come 
bringing grand and glorious new T s.” 

And then, great w r as the commotion that ensued. The water 
churned and foamed beneath fluke and flipper stroke as the huge 
monsters crowded about their big leader. Finally all were quieted 
down sufficiently to hear what Balena had to say. 

“A royal stranger named Manatus, has come to rule over the 
ocean,” she cried. “We must make ready to welcome him.” 

“Who is he?” asked one. 


115 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“Not a savage creature, I hope,” said another. 

“Who he is, I know not,” replied Balena. “But the Gull says 
that he is a weed-eater. One who feeds upon green things can¬ 
not be savage. The Gull tells me that he can be calm and good- 
natured as well as fierce and strong.” 

“One of that kind would be welcome here,” said one of the 
Bowfins. 

“Welcome? More than that,” Balena grunted. “We should 
hunt him out and provide him an escort so that he need not come 
amongst us alone.” 

A most excellent idea; all were agreed on that. Nobody 
would say that they were lacking in the courtesy and repect due 
one of royal station. They would treat the stranger in a manner 
befitting his exalted rank, even though they risked grounding 
themselves upon the sandbar doing it. 

In the meantime, Puffina had flown back to the Rookery. 
Pier prank was successfully launched; more than that, for, un¬ 
known to her, the whales had taken time by the forelock and were 
already pushing matters on their own account. 

The royal stranger was hovering about the mouth of the 
estuary, so the Gull had said, which meant that somebod}^ must 
go to him across the shoals. Two of the smallest and boldest 
whales were selected for the task. Being of comparatively light 
draught, it was adjudged very cleverly by all that they stood the 
best chance of crossing the bar in safety. Once over, they were 
to find the mysterious stranger and return with him. 

The two envoys set their faces bravely shoreward and their 
courage was rewarded. By taking advantage of occasional cross- 
lifts, they crossed the bar and reached the bay without mishap. 
Once there they kept on until they neared the mouth of the 
estuary. They were patrolling the waters, when suddenly the 


116 




SULA TAUNTS THE KING WHALE 









































































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


round head of some strange animal bobbed up above the waves. 
As they swam toward it, the head sank from sight. Of course 
royalty must not be unduly urged. There was plenty of time, 
so the two whales halted over where the head had vanished and 
waited patiently for its reappearance. 

Ill 

While Puffina was busying herself with the big Whalebone 
Whales, Sula sought their toothed cousins. The Gull meant only 
to play a harmless prank but Sula was in deadly earnest. The 
stranger had wounded her deeply and she was determined to 
more than even matters. He might get hurt, even killed, but it 
was all his own fault and whatever happened to him would arouse 
none of her sympathy. 

The Toothed Whales were a very different sort from their 
larger relatives. Rarely did they take tilings for granted. They 
were in the habit of investigating and seeing with their own eyes 
before they would believe anything told them. Sula did not fly 
down close to them as did Puffina when visiting the Toothless 
Whales. She was not ready to be eaten just yet; so she flew in 
circles about the herd, close overhead but beyond the reach of 
any that might choose to snap at her. There were a great many 
of them—blunt-nosed Killers and Grampuses, block-headed 
Sperms, beaked Dolphins and the like. Sula scarcely knew where 
to begin. Suddenly a long narrow head rose above the water. 
It was that of Squalodon the King Whale. Sula halted in mid¬ 
air and hung fluttering over him. 

“Look out for yourself, you footless alligator,” she squawked. 
“A stranger is coming to rule the ocean and unless you behave, 
he will not let you stay in it.” 


118 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


Now Squalodon was not an alligator although at a distance 
he did look a bit like one. Sula called him that because she knew 
it was the quickest way to make him angry. Squalodon was 
angered by the insult but the news he heard aroused him even 
more. “A stranger—ruler?” he bellowed. “Who, where is he?” 

“Wait and see,” the bird taunted him. “His name is Manatus 
and he eats seaweed. How grand it will be to have the ocean 
ruled by an eater of weeds. I can see you all now jumping around 
to do as bidden.” 

Squalodon ground his teeth. Their serrated crowns projected 
in ragged lines from his four jaws. He was a flesh-eater as all 
Whales were; and flesh and vegetable-eaters were inclined to 
think harshly of each other. It was bad enough to have new 
rulers continually bobbing up; but that the latest should be a 
weed-eater, was almost too much to be endured. 

“He won’t rule over me,” roared the King Whale. “Anyhow 
he will have to fight first and you won’t find much of him left 
when I finish with him. When is he coming?” 

Squalodon was not large but his long lithe body could cleave 
and turn in the water with marvelous quickness; also his was a 
quarrelsome nature and he was ever eager for a fight. 

“Awk! but you won’t see him for a long time,” mocked the 
Booby. “He intends visiting the big whales first. Probably 
they will want to keep him with them and away from you little 
fellows.” 

With this parting shot, she flew shoreward. 

Mad? Squalodon lashed himself into a perfect frenzy; and 
when he told the other whales about the stranger, they too went 
wild, tearing around in the ocean until it resembled a kettle of 
boiling fish. 

Sula continued her flight. One would think that she had 


119 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


already stirred up trouble enough; but she had her own ideas 
about that. The Sharks, too, must be put in a proper frame of 
mind. She could now see them beneath her, swimming on the 
shore side of the bar, so she swooped down to have a word with 
them. 

Chara, Queen of the Sharks, was gliding lazily along the 
ocean’s surface when Sula accosted her. Chara was a forty-foot 
damsel of the white shark or sea-tiger variety. Her jaws bristled 
with large, triangular teeth. Her neck was scarred with long, 
vertical slits, six on each side. These were her gills, a portion of 
her breathing apparatus. Like all other sharks she had no scales 
although her skin was harsher than sandpaper. 

She was Queen of the Sharks, being bigger, stronger and 
fiercer than any of the others; also she had the most effective 
bite, which counted for a great deal. As for size, she looked more 
like a whale than a shark. A man—had there been such a thing— 
could have stood comfortably in her open mouth; comfortably, 
provided the good Queen did not take a sudden notion to close 
her jaws. 

Rarely did any rival venture to dispute Chara’s mastery over 
the Sharks. She had a naive and peculiar way of dealing with 
such disputers and simple too, which consisted of swallowing them 
bag and baggage. This invariably settled the matter and did 
away with long-winded argument. 

“Lovely day,” squawked Sula as she circled around the fierce 
monster. “I hope you have eaten and rested well.” 

“Not enough to satisfy me,” snapped the Sea Tigress. “You 
might oblige me by coming closer.” 

“I did not fly here to be eaten by you,” replied the Booby. 
“I merely wished you to know that the ocean is soon to have a 
new ruler.” 


120 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


“I hare heard of them before,” sneered the big Shark; “but 
somehow the expected never happens. I have not seen one yet 
that made more than a mouthful.” 

“But this one will surprise you,” replied Sula. “His name 
is Manatus. The ocean has never seen a creature so fierce and 
strong.” 

“It hasn’t, eh? Well, I’m used to rivals and I guess this one 
won’t worry me any more than the others I have swallowed.” 

“You will think differentlv when vou see this Manatus,” 
Sula retorted. “He is the most dashing creature that ever wore 
fins. He has taken a particular fancy to you; so I am told.” 

“To me?” Chara became all attention. “What does he 
want—a fight?” 

“Hardly that,” was the answer. “However, wait and see. He 
is liable to do almost anything. He is bold and so fond of 
sharks, there is no telling what might happen.” 

Chara smirked and wriggled like an eel. 

“What could happen?” she giggled. “As for sharks, I guess 
I am enough to interest him.” Her mouth gaped vide in a 
cavernous smile. She was experiencing a new and delightful sen¬ 
sation. 

Sula could scarcely conceal her amusement. She was having 
more fun that she had bargained for. Chara was not only blessed 
with a temperament but had an exalted idea of her own personal 
charms. This may have been warranted from her point of view 
but the Booby could see nothing about her that might be con¬ 
sidered attractive or wholesome. 

“You have already interested him,” said Sula with a twinkle 
of her fishy eyes. “Just to show how bold and dashing he is, he 
plans to visit the Sharks and carry off their Queen.” 

“Me?” gasped the astonished Sea Tigress. “Why, how dare 

121 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


he say such a thing, the rascal? I’ll slap him with my fin if he 
tries it.” Chara strove to assume an- air of offended dignity but 
failed miserably, for she was a maiden shark, and the news that 
she was soon to figure in an abduction put her in a seventh 
heaven of delight. 

“Leave this Manatus to me,” she said coyly. “I can take 
care of myself and him too, so you need not worry.” 

Sula’s task was now completed, so she flew back to the 
Rookery and perched high upon the rocks to watch and await 
developments. 

And now to return to our hero, the mysterious stranger of the 
Upper River. 

After parting with the Gull on the southwestern shore of the 
estuary, Manatus lost no time hunting up suitable feeding 
grounds. No vegetation was to be found upon the sandy bottom 
of the estuary, so he plucked up courage and swam into the bay. 
Its chill and salt-bite exhilarated him. He dove deeply to the 
bottom and found to his great delight that it was a veritable sea 
undergrowth of luscious weeds. Before lunching, he rose to the 
surface to renew his air-supply. Here he sat upright viewing 
the endless expanse of white-capped waves. This was his first 
intimate acquaintance with the ocean itself and it impressed him 
deeply. Far from discouraging him, its cold green vastness filled 
him with joy. Alone, he could easily face the great,wide world, 
but when in the midst of other animals, it was different. He was 
shy, dreadfully, painfully shy, and he had lived so long in seclu¬ 
sion that the very thought of mingling with other creatures was 
almost more than he could bear. 

But now he was alone and in an endless expanse of delightful 
ocean. He gazed scornfully behind him. No more of that stink¬ 
ing Upper River for him. In a single day the shrinking hermit 


122 



THE WHALE ENVOYS CALL UPON MANATUS 










































































































































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

had shifted from fresh to salt-water and was venturing forth to 
find fame and fortune in the sea. The world loves a stout heart 
and venturesome spirit. From that moment, Manatus was to be 
reckoned with as a power in the briny deep. 

These were not exactly the words he would have used to 
express his feelings at that moment but he admitted to himself 
that what he now felt and saw was even better than he had 
expected. But his appetite was rapidly growing rebellious at 
being kept waiting, so once more he dove to the ocean bottom and 
glided over it, fanning the weed-tops into his mouth with his split 
upper lip. Finally when he was full and could eat no more, he 
swam to the surface vowing that never had he so enjoyed himself. 
As his head emerged into the open air, he shook the water from 
it, brushed his lip-bristles with his flippers and was about to inhale 
a fresh air supply for an underwater exploring trip when he heard 
a slight noise behind him. He turned quickly, blinked and gasped 
with astonishment, for two huge creatures were floating beside 
him. 

“Are you Manatus?” asked one. 

“Ugh,” was all our hero could say for a moment. He was 
wondering how the stranger had learned his name. Not a soul 
had he spoken to in that neighborhood except two silly birds. 

“Yes, I am Manatus,” he finally admitted, and was looking 
about him for a way to escape when the second stranger spoke: 

“We are whales,” he said most humbly. “We are pleased to 
have found your Highness and now beg you to come with us.” 

“Your Highness?” Manatus stared like one in a trance. 
“All a mistake,” he stammered. “You mean someone else. Go 
with you? No; I won’t go anywhere with anybody.” 

“No mistake, for you have said that you are the noble Mana¬ 
tus,” the other insisted. “Your fame has reached the ocean world. 


124 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


Our people are assembled there, eager and waiting to do you 
honor.” 

Manatus glanced at the pair suspiciously. No, they were not 
joking; it was easy to see that. His head or something within 
it whirled so that he could scarcely think. He must be a person 
of extraordinary importance, for these whales insisted he was. It 
was all so confusing and yet he felt a thrill of pleasure at being 
welcomed so wholeheartedly by these big sea animals. Perhaps 
he had misjudged himself. In his self-enforced seclusion he had 
failed to appreciate the latent power within him. He raised his 
head proudly and strove to appear every inch a king. He threw 
out his chest, assumed his grandest air and gazed loftily at the 
two whales, now his humble vassals. 

“How noble he looks,” one of the pair said in a low voice to 
the other. 

Manatus wilted. They w^ere whispering to one another. A 
wave of timidity almost overwhelmed him. 

“No, I will not go with you,” he grunted with a shake of his 
head. “I know neither you nor your whales. Leave me and 
depart in peace.” 

“Impossible,” was the answer. “It is death for us to return 
without your Majesty. We beg, we implore you to come.” 

Your Majesty! Another title. Manatus felt thrills one after 
another chasing up and down his spine. His spirits rose again. 
These whales seemed well-meaning and harmless enough. He 
dreaded social gatherings but that feeling was more a habit than 
the result of experience. He had lived alone too long; even he 
realized that. Now was the time for him to emerge from his 
shell. If only he could rid himself of his dreadful shyness; but 
his vanity was already deeply touched and he was becoming 

125 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


rapidly inflated with his own importance. “Where are your 
people?” he demanded pompously. 

“In the ocean beyond the sandbar,” was the reply. “They 
dare not cross it for fear of being stranded. If you will but 
follow, we will guide you safely through to the deeper water.” 

Manatus paused irresolute, hovering upon the brink and 
straining his nerve to make the plunge. Fame and power awaited 
him. Behind him was the old life; before him, the new. He stole 
one last,furtive look at the two whales. They awaited his pleasure 
in deferential silence. No amount of pleading and coaxing could 
have influenced him more than did their impressive dignity as 
they floated restfully in the green, watery vastness. The shy 
whisper of protest became hushed, the spirit of daring triumphed 
and he plunged boldly and blindly into the great unknown. 

“Very well; lead and I will follow.” He combed his lip- 
bristles with his flippers, settled into a horizontal position, chest 
to the waves, and swam seaward with a whale escorting him on 
either side. 

The salt-water was cold and invigorating. The farther he 
swam, the better he liked it. He quickened his pace and try as 
they would, the two whales could scarcely keep up with him. 

“A mighty swimmer,” said one. 

“A marvel of daring,” added the other. “Take care, noble 
master, or you will come to grief upon the shoals.” 

Manatus heard these remarks. His head was in the clouds. 
“What of that?” he grunted with a devil-may-care air. “Shoals? 
Ugh; I can climb over them if I have to.” 

The whales gasped. Never was known such recklessness. 
Manatus might endeavor to mask his royal daring with an atmos¬ 
phere of timidity but he could not deceive them. They knew a 
real king when they saw one. 


126 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


However, there was no need of our hero’s showing his skill 
at climbing over bars. A cross-rift opened before him and he 
swam through, into the open sea. The ocean surface before him 
was dotted with black moving objects. Manatus slowed up as 
he caught sight of them. 

“What are thev?” he inquired anxiously. 

“The Whales,” one of his companions explained. “They are 
gathered together aw r aiting Your Highness.” 

“Waiting to see me? Ugh!” Manatus lost his boldness in 
an instant as he realized that soon he v r ould be facing a lot of . 
strangers. His brain became befuddled. He would have turned 
tail and sped back to w r here he came from but he was so confused 
that he lost all sense of direction. While he hesitated, the distant 
herd began swimming in his direction. They were on the watch 
and had caught sight of him. 

“What huge things they are,” he stammered in an agony 
of doubt. “Are they all whales?” 

“Every one,” was the reply. 

“Will they bite me?” 

“No, they would not and they could not if they wmuld. None 
of them have teeth.” 

“No teeth?” Manatus recovered his composure. He made 
so bold as to indulge in a bit of ponderous humor. “Whales, 
ump!” he snorted. “Why, they are nothing but big fish.” 

“Not so loud,” one of his companions cautioned him, for the 
oncoming herd w r as already within hearing distance. “They are 
not fish and would be offended if they heard you say so.” 

“Then why do they live in the water?” 

“It is a long story and there is not time to tell it now,” was 
the reply. “We whales were once land-animals, but we loved the 

127 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


sea-water and spent so much time in it that our hind legs shriv¬ 
eled up and we could no longer use them. There was nothing left 

for us to do but take to the water and stay there.” 

* 

“Why, that fits my case exactly,” said the surprised Manatus. 
He began to think that either he was a whale or would soon be¬ 
come one. But now he forgot all about everything, for the herd 
was crowding about him, and he had no more time to think. They 
were gigantic creatures, and there were so many of them that 
Manatus was suddenly overwhelmed with fear and wished himself 
safely out of the whole mess. His eyes crossed and the two halves 
of his upper lip flapped wildly from side to side. Astonishing 
result! The whales in their turn became frightened and backed 
water in great confusion. 

“What poise; how fierce he looks!” these and similar ex¬ 
clamations resounded on all sides. Manatus heard them and his 
courage revived. He glanced at those before him so graciously 
that the big whales felt entirely reassured and hurried forward 
to pay their respects. It was evident that none of them intended 
to hurt him. Manatus began to enjoy the fuss they were making 
over him. He had even made up his mind that he had found his 
proper place in life at last. 

He was having a busy and delightful time of it, when, to his 
consternation, he saw a mass of dark figures coming from the 
south. It was another herd bearing down upon him. The big 
whales turned and faced the newcomers. Manatus could see by 
their behavior that they were not at all pleased with the new 
arrivals. The latter came on until they almost touched noses with 
the Toothless Whales; and meanwhile our hero sat upright in the 
water, hemmed in between the opposing forces and cut off from 
all escape. 

Swish! a long, lithe form darted from the ranks of the new 


128 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


arrivals and planted itself in front of Manatus. It was Squalo- 
don; and his companions were the Toothed Whales. Manatus 
scented trouble, and his spirits instantly collapsed like a bursted 
bubble. Cold drills crept over him as Squalodon set himself in 
motion, swimming around and under him, and meanwhile look¬ 
ing him over as a farmer does when about to buy a mule. The 
big Whales observed this display of rudeness in breathless 
silence. Squalodon paid no attention to them. Having com¬ 
pleted his tour of inspection, he again took up Iris position in 
front of Manatus. The latter’s last remnant of courage was now 
absolutely and completely gone. The big whales had backed 
away until Manatus was given a glimpse of the distant shore, so 
distant that it appeared like a thin gray line. 

Squalodon was eyeing him insolently. A wicked, fishy grin 
was upon his face. 

“And so this is the mighty Manatus,” he muttered in tones of 
biting sarcasm. “It is said that he has come from nobody knows 
where, and that all sea-creatures must bow before him. How¬ 
ever, I am not so sure that he possesses the strength and courage 
to make good his claim.” 

The words of the King Whale sounded like a challenge. All 
eyes were now turned upon Manatus. The latter’s heart sank 
within him. He trembled like a frightened child. Squalodon 
opened his mouth wide, displaying all of his serried teeth. 

“Unless I am much mistaken, w r e have met before,” he 
snapped viciously. “I can assure you that my liking for you has 
not improved since then. Where are your hind legs? You seem 
to have hidden them well, but you cannot deceive me, you miser¬ 
able landlubber posing as the ruler of the sea.” 

Manatus almost collapsed. It was with a courage borne of 
stupidity and desperation that he blurted out: “Landlubber your- 


129 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


self. You would be crawling around on the mud-flats even now 
if your own hind legs had not shriveled up.” 

Squalodon’s face became convulsed with rage. With an effort 
he restrained himself. 

“Silence, fooll” he screamed; then, addressing his comrades, he 
delivered himself of a torrent of verbal abuse such as Manatus 
had never before listened to: 

“Take a good look at this sniveling sand-puppy, one and all 
of you,” he cried. “Your eyes grow dim or you would surely 
recognize him. Do you remember in the old days when we floun¬ 
dered upon the mudbanks, how we warred upon the herds of 
vegetable eaters that trampled our grass and dirtied our waters ? 
None of them dared follow when we left the land forever and 
made our homes in the open sea; but now-” 

He paused for an instant and glared ferociously at the unfor¬ 
tunate Manatus. The latter had none to help him, for the big 
Toothless Whales, although anxious and interested spectators, 
were too timid to force an issue with their smaller but fiercer rela¬ 
tives. Manatus was now desperate and thoroughly aware of his 
own imminent peril. Almost imperceptibly he backed water, 
setting himself for a dash to the sandbar, whose surface, laid bare 
by the ebbing tide, showed faintly in the distance. The voice of 
the King Whale again grated harshly in his ears: 

“But now one of them has dared; and more,” cried the in¬ 
furiated Squalodon. “He, an eater of weeds, would rule the 
ocean dwellers. He is but our slave of the old days, I tell you; 
a slave posing as our master. Death to the skulker and weed- 
eater! Death to Manatus the Sea Cow.” 

Splash! Manatus dove with the quickness of a lightning 
bolt and was gone. After him plunged Squalodon and the nim¬ 
blest of the Toothed Whales. Away sped the Sea Cow, straight 


130 




A HOST OF LITHE FISH-LIKE FORMS LOOMED IN THE 
TRANSLUCENT DEPTHS BEFORE HIM 





























































































































































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


and swift as an arrow, his breath and direction calculated to reach 
the bar with a single dive. His sluggishness cast from him, he 
was like a bird in its element, shooting through the water with the 
swiftness of a rifle bullet. But the sea water was new to him, 
and his pursuers were close behind. It was a long, heart-break¬ 
ing dash, with his air supply rapidly becoming exhausted, but he 
kept desperately on. Suddenly the rising ocean bottom touched 
his chest and the dim light above him brightened through the 
greenish haze. He made a last spurt and shot up the inclined 
verge of the bar, while behind him his enemies thrashed and 
floundered in the perilous shallows which they had failed to take 
note of in the excitement of the chase. 

Once safely clear of the Toothed Whales, Manatus dragged 
his w r eary body over the sand to the deeper water. Fie was des¬ 
perately tired, but this w^as no time for resting. Squalodon and 
his herd might come at any moment through one of the cross-rifts 
and cut off his escape to the mainland. Manatus took a long 
breath and dove deeply. He was making good progress shore¬ 
ward when suddenly a host of lithe, fishlike forms loomed in the 
translucent depths before him. His escape was cut off. He 
stopped swimming, believing himself lost. He rose to the ocean 
surface and bowed his head meekly. The fishlike forms arose 
with him. No use struggling further against Fate, so he closed 
his eyes, covered his face with his flippers and calmly awaited the 
end. 


IV 

Chara, Queen of the Sharks, floated in her boudoir—a garden 
of seaweed ten fathoms beneath the ocean surface—with Sphyrna 
the Hammerhead and I sura the Mackerel Shark attending her. 


132 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


She was side-arching her long, tapering body and glancing 
admiringly at her feathery tail fin when suddenly a shadow 
thrust itself between her and the dim light overhead. In another 
instant two broad, flat objects tumbled down into the ocean 
depths. They were Bat Wing and Whip Tail, the Eagle Rays. 
Their great spreading fins, growing each side of and the full 
length of their bodies, gave them the appearance of flying bats. 
Instead of sharp teeth, their mouths w T ere roofed and paved with 
thick bony plates. Their long, slender tails cut the water like 
blacksnake whips as they swung themselves into position before 
their Queen. 

“We bring news!” Bat Wing announced breathlessly. “The 
mysterious stranger has arrived most suddenly and unexpectedly. 
He would have dashed right in on you had not the sharks stopped 
him.” 

Chara gasped and stared. The suddenness of it all nearly 
took the breath out of her. 

“Why such haste?” she demanded, secretly pleased, but try¬ 
ing her hardest to look fierce. “Seems to me he is a rather for¬ 
ward animal. I am not accustomed to having strangers burst 
in upon me without the slightest warning.” 

“No doubt he realizes that,” Whip Tail now spoke up. “For 
he was dreadfully embarrassed at sight of us. We cannot induce 
him to say a word.” 

Chara’s eyes softened. The gill-slits in her neck quivered. 
Even she, who could eat half a dozen seals at one sitting, found 
it hard to resist such a display of the royal visitor’s tender senti¬ 
ment. 

“I believe that you little rascals are merely trying to tease 
me,” she snickered; then her voice dropped to almost a whisper 
as though she feared that her attendants Sphyrna and Isura 


133 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

might overhear. “Tell me, is the stranger as handsome as he is 
daring?” 

“Not exactly handsome,” Whip Tail replied. “He is much 
smaller than Your Majesty, and looks much like a seal. And 
yet never have I seen a creature bear himself with greater dig¬ 
nity and calmness.” 

Ohara glowed phosphorescent green. She was delighted. It 
was nerve-racking, this being forever feared and kow-towed to as 
though she were an ogre. She was simply dying for an admirer, 
particularly one of a masterful nature who would bully and 
knock her about. 

“Good,” she gurgled. “Now bid the stranger approach. One 
thing more: you may tell our people that this stranger is a very 
important creature, also a particular friend of mine, and it is 
nobody’s business what he says or does to me. Now off with you, 
and hurry, for I am so anxious to meet him I can scarcely wait 
another moment.” 

In the meantime, our hero w r as given a chance to catch his 
breath, also to learn that he had stumbled upon a school o^ sharks 
and not the Toothed Whales, as he had first feared. This discov¬ 
ery gave him great relief, particularly as his new acquaintances 
showed no disposition to harm him. Rather, they appeared much 
interested because of his unexpected arrival among them. The 
water fairly swarmed with them. One would think that the 
whole Shark family, Rays and Dog Fishes included, had turned 
out for a grand celebration. They were a wicked-looking lot, 
with their big mouths bristling full of sharp teeth and their cold 
eyes staring at him through the green clouded water. But by 
this time Manatus felt bored rather than terrified. He had poked 
himself into a nest of sea-hornets, but failed to appreciate his 
danger. Sharks might be the terrors of the ocean, but he remem- 


134 



THE OUEEN SHARK WRIGGLED WITH DELIGHT 








THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


bered his recent experience and considered the Toothed Whales a 
thousand times worse. 

He was wishing that his new acquaintances would swim away 
and leave him a clear path to the mainland, when word came that 
the Queen of the Sharks awaited him. The Sea Cow’s heart 
sank. More trouble. He would have given anything to be back 
safe in the estuary or even the Upper River, but there was no 
ignoring the royal summons, so he followed as directed, and was 
soon ushered into the presence of the Queen. 

At sight of him Chara’s heart palpitated so violently she 
thought it would burst. Her royal visitor was small and queer¬ 
looking, and yet all the more thrilling for those very reasons. 
Such a pygmy must be a marvel of audacity, a daring little 
rascal, to even think of asserting his mastery over her. Such 
boldness was enough to take her breath away. She felt humbled. 
Had he pitched into her just then and laid down the law she 
would have groveled in the mud and rejoiced at her humility. 
But the Sea Cow said and did nothing. The sight of the big¬ 
mouthed, saucer-eyed monster before him had frozen the marrow 
in his bones. 

Chara felt a twinge of impatience. Why did not her admirer 
say or do something? Her impatience grew to irritation, and 
then she smiled happily as she saw the Sea Cow glancing tim¬ 
idly at the crowd of spectators gathered about them. She hastened 
to put her visitor at his ease. 

“Ah, I see. So many strange faces annoy you. You prefer 
that we be alone. So do I. Please restrain yourself a moment 
while I attend to it.” 

“You might tell them to keep away from between me and 
the land,” suggested Manatus as the Queen’s purpose dawned 

upon him. 


135 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


‘T would have chosen the ocean side,” Chara giggled; “but 
you know best. Anywhere is good enough for me if it pleases 
you.” 

With that she turned to her followers and bade them with¬ 
draw out of earshot. This they did with a few tail-strokes, hov¬ 
ering in the murky water at a respectful distance. The path to 
the mainland was now open. Manatus was preparing to make a 
dash in that direction when Chara snapped her jaws together with 
a loud crash that made him nearly pop out of his skin. 

“Have you nothing to say?” she demanded in a voice trem¬ 
bling with vexation. “Your calmness might be mistaken for in¬ 
difference, and do stop staring at those other sharks. There is 
only one that you need look at, and here I am.” 

Yes, there she was; but for the life of him Manatus could not 
make head or tail of what she wanted. He wished that all this 
mummery might end quickly and that he might be permitted to 
go his way in peace. He glanced shyly at the Queen, so shyly 
that the latter wriggled with delight. She endeavored to hide 
her embarrassment, but this was an almost hopeless task, for she 
was mostly mouth and teeth. 

“Yes, I am looking at you,” he mumbled, trying his hardest 
to be agreeable. “This is my first visit to the ocean, and until I 
came here never have I seen so many and such fine,big fish.” 

“Fish!” The Queen’s hack fin fairly bristled with scorn. 
“What do you mean hv calling me such a vulgar name?” 

It was too much. She broke down and hit the water, so great 
was her disappointment and mortification. 

The Sea Cow felt that he had blundered. He made a des¬ 
perate effort to right himself in the Queen’s eyes. 

“You a fish?” he gurgled, slapping the two halves of his upper 


136 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


lip together in his embarrassment. ££ I did not mean to say that. 
I was speaking of whales, not sharks.” 

It was only a chance remark, delivered blindly and without 
forethought, but it frothed and sizzled with wit, had he but known 
it. Even Chara’s dull intellect caught the flash of genius. 

“Ho-ho, haw-haw! Whales, fish?” she roared in ecstasy. 
“That is the best joke I ever heard. I wish they could hear you 
tell it,” and the huge shark thrashed about so merrily that Mana- 
tus almost grinned in spite of himself. Graduallj- Chara recov¬ 
ered from her hilarity. Her face finally sobered and assumed a 
puzzled expression as she gazed inquiringly at the Sea Cow. 

“There are no whales here,” she said. “They are big, stupid 
creatures, and it is insulting the fish to class them together; but 
why mention it? Tell me: what made you think of them?” 

Manatus saw that he was getting himself into hot water. 
Chara was eyeing him dubiously. Xo trace of coyness now showed 
itself in her sea-green face. He felt himself slipping, but knew 
not how to mend matters. He needed help. Had he but known 
he might easily have secured himself in the good graces of the 
Queen. To rule her was to rule the ocean. But, in spite of his 
first brilliant remark, he lacked wit. He was one of those well- 
meaning individuals who were forever doing or saying the wrong 
thing. 

“Why shouldn’t I think of them?” he snorted. “I was just 
finished seeing them when I swam into all these sharks and met 
you.” 

Chara’s face became harder than the blade of an ax. “So! 
you went to see them first, eh? I suppose you were after that 
mass of blubber, Balena. I’ll bite her flippers off the next time 
I see her. I’ll bite her tail off, too, and the tail of every one of 
those whales that dares even look at you. How did they behave 


137 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

themselves? Iif they played any tricks I’llj make them pay 
dearly.” 

Ohara was in a jealous tantrum. Her bold swain was so ex¬ 
asperating, she felt like snapping a chunk off a coral reef. The 
thought that he had paid a visit to Balena before coming to see 
her was maddening. If Manatus had only possessed more tact, 
she and the ocean would have been his, but being dull-witted he 
continued on the down grade. 

“Tricks?” he drawled. “The big Toothless Whales didn’t play 
any; but you should have seen the way the Toothed ones acted. 
I never was treated so in all my life.” 

“The little ones! That’s the way the waves roll, eh? What 
did they do?” The Queen was now beside herself. Gone was her 
clinging femininity. She was ready to swallow the sun because 
its rays smote softly upon her Manatus. 

“Do?” repeated the adored one. “Not half what they wanted. 
But it was more than enough for me. They chased me over the 
sandbar.” 

“Chased—you?” The Queen could scarcely believe her ears. 
Manatus was a marvel of strength and courage, according to re¬ 
port. Surely she could not have heard aright. 

“Yes—me,” replied our hero impressively, convinced that now 
the conversation was taking a pleasanter turn. “But I was too 
quick for them, and just when they thought they had me I 
climbed over the bar.” 

He chuckled as he recalled the discomfiture of his enemies. 
It was amusing to think of how he had left them thrashing about 
in the shoals; but suddenly his face grew ashen; his heart nearly 
stopped beating; he stared aghast at the huge shark, whose fury 
was now concentrated upon him in a look of withering scorn. 
Her idol was shattered. Her royal lover was a coward. Her 


138 


THE MERMAN OF THE CHESAPEAKE 


mouth gaped wide. The sea*water boiled through her gills. 

“So that is why you came here so unexpectedly?” she bellowed. 
“Chased by the whales, were you, you miserable little seal-puppy? 
What ho!'’ she screamed to her assembled followers. “Here is 
sport for everybody. Death to the impostor! Away with him 
and chew him to bits!” 

Swish, swirl! Away shot the Sea Cow like an arrow from a 
bow. He secured a good start before the sharks had sufficiently 
recovered from their surprise to hustle pell-mell after him; and 
Manatus could set a surprisingly fast pace in spite of his apparent 
clumsiness, provided the stakes w r ere big enough. It was nip and 
tuck, and anybody’s race until the Sea Cow r ’s air supply began to 
dwindle, then his pursuers gradually closed in. They might have 
caught him, but he w~as nearing the mainland and the water w^as 
shallowing fast. The sharks soon became aware of this and 
slow r ed up just in time to avoid grounding on the shoals. Mana¬ 
tus felt his chest touch bottom. In another moment he w*as drag¬ 
ging himself up the beach, safe at last from his enemies, whose 
back fins cleaved the w r ater close behind him. 

He w*as a tired and bedraggled Sea Cow r , but safe and sound, 
wffiich w r as much to be thankful for. He w T as lying flippers upon 
the sand and tail in the w r ater when something descended from 
above and alighted close beside him. It w r as Puffina the Gull. 

“So you have returned,” she said. “I saw you swimming out 
into the ocean, but did not expect you back so soon. How did 
you like it?” 

“The water is all right,” Manatus replied timidly; “but there 
are too many sharks and wffiales in it for me. Ah, but I am glad 
to be rid of them.” While saying this he w r as hitching his round 
body backward into the water. 

“Do you intend to try it again?” asked Puffina. 


139 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


The Sea Cow shook his head solemnly. “No, it won’t do,” he 
declared. “There is nothing left for me but to return to the old 
life in the Upper River. There I can at least live in peace and 
quiet and be safe from the sharks and whales.” 

So saying he backed away until the water became deep enough 
for him to assume an upright position. His nose-valves closed, 
his head sank from sight and he swam over the ocean bottom to 
the mouth of the estuary. Here he rose slowly to the surface and 
refilled his lungs. 

For several moments he sat bolt upright, gazing across the 
sea, then with a farewell snort he disappeared beneath the waves 
and began his homeward journey to the Upper River. He had 
made his last venture into the ocean. He had seen and expe¬ 
rienced enough of it to last him the rest of his life. His oppor¬ 
tunity had come and gone, and Opportunity rarely knocks twice 
at anyone’s door. Better the dreary seclusion of the Upper River 
than the turmoil of the briny deep. His chance had passed, the 
curtain was rung down and to the ocean dwellers the name of 
Manatus the Sea Cow was but a memory, 


140 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


INTRODUCTION 

The Tapir of today is confined to southern Mexico, Central 
America and the northern part of South America in the Western 
Hemisphere and to the Malay Peninsula of Asia in the Eastern 
half of the world. It would be difficult to account for this ani¬ 
mal’s presence in such widely separated localities, and no others, 
did not the rocks tell us that in geologically ancient times his 
family enjoyed a very wide distribution. During the More Re¬ 
cent (Pliocene) period these odd creatures roamed over the 
United States, Europe and probably Asia, disappearing from 
the first-named two regions in the Most Recent (Pleistocene) 
period. One branch of the family moved down into the Central 
American region and settled there, while another journeyed into 
southeastern xAsia, where it exists today. 

The Tapir is a living fossil, a most primitive form of hoofed 
animal. From Less Recent (Miocene) times, he has come down 
to us practically unchanged, in marked contrast to his cousin, 
the Horse, a model of progressiveness. His noticeable activities 
began early in the More Recent (Pliocene) period, whose bone¬ 
bearing deposits are unfortunately scantily represented in our 
L T nited States. However, near the head-waters of Snake Creek, 
western Nebraska, is one; a sand and gravel bed formed by river 
channel action, and here the remains of ancient animals, the Tapir 
included, are to be found in abundance. From the numerous 
bones of browsers or forest-loving hoofed creatures mingled with 
relics of the more progressive grazers or plains dwellers, it is 
apparent that the gradually changing climate had not yet pro¬ 
duced its full effect. Prolonged droughts, dry winds and lower- 


141 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

Ing temperature had not entirely discouraged luxurious vegeta¬ 
tion nor compelled the forest animals to yield in favor of the 
hardier plains types. This change came later, as shown at Mt. 
Blanco, a More Recent (Pliocene) bone-bearing deposit of the 
Staked Plains, northern Texas. Here the remains of hoofed 
forest-dwellers are scarce, while those of plains animals abound. 
But the Tapir, forest-lover and browser, did not make his last 
bow to the world in the gravels of Snake Creek, Mt. Blanco or 
anywhere else. Ordinarily it was not in the nature of things for 
old-fashioned beasts to endure, but his case proved an exception. 
Physically he was well-adapted for the particular life he had 
chosen as befitting one of his modest attainments, and his men¬ 
tality also must have been sufficient, for having found the mode 
of living which suited him best, he knew enough to stick to it. 
That is why the Tapir, in spite of his backwardness, has managed 
to maintain himself throughout the long ages and be alive today. 


142 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


I 

Kyon the Bear Dog sat upon his haunches gazing gloomily 
into the distance at a group of slowly moving figures. These 
were horses, and he regretted exceedingly that they had chosen 
to congregate on the farther bank of the river beyond his reach. 
There was really nothing of the bear about him, except his size 
and clumsiness, he being a gigantic, slow-footed dog, although a 
powerful one, well able to hold his own with most any creature. 
However, a flesh-eater as slow-moving as he would find it dif¬ 
ficult to catch such animals as should have contributed to his 
larder. Kyon had found them most elusive, and so he did not fare 
as well as he might. His had been a carrion diet, except on rare 
occasions, when a bit of rare good fortune brought some sick or 
disabled creature within his grasp. The time had been w T hen Bear- 
dogs in general made an easy living, but that time had passed. 
Rhinoceri and other ponderous animals had disappeared and their 
places were taken by hardier and more active individuals, such as 
the Horse, Camel and Deer. The latter w T ere too swift-footed 
for the Bear Dog, hence his gloom as he watched the herd of 
horses moving about on the other side of the river. They had but 
recently come there from the Plains country to drink and bathe. 
The Plains country had once been a fertile region, resplendent 
with forests and green pastures, but gradually lowering tempera¬ 
ture and ever-dwindling rainfall had produced marked changes. 
The trees were gone, and of the meadow T s only scattered grass- 
tufts and a few stunted plants remained. 

In marked contrast was the forest side of the river where the 
rapidly-disappearing vegetation had made its last stand. It, too, 
had suffered from the ravages of time, having retreated a quarter 
mile or more from the water. Here stood the Old Guard; tall oaks, 

143 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

shagbarks and other hardy trees serving as outposts to protect 
the luxurious vegetation behind them from further inroads of the 
Plains. The ground between forest and river sloped gently 
downward. Although bare of trees, it was covered with long 
grass and dotted with clumps of hushes. 

The Bear Dog was a forest animal, while the horses were 
dwellers of the plains. The former would have sought a closer 
acquaintance with the latter, but as the Plains country gave flesh- 
eaters little opportunity to conceal themselves and creep unob¬ 
served upon their fleet-footed prey, Kyon had long since given 
up trying and kept to his own side of the river. While squatting 
among the bush-clumps, inwardly berating the elusiveness of 
animals in general, his attention was suddenly drawn from the 
distant horses to a solitary figure standing out upon the skyline, 
just beyond the forest’s edge only a few hundred yards away. 
The figure was that of a plump, short-legged animal recently 
emerged from some hiding-place among the trees. No doubt he 
was on his way to the river and had paused to make a brief survey 
of his surroundings, realizing that a journey down the slopes 
would expose him to such enemies as might be lurking in the 
neighborhood. 

The Bear Dog sank full-length upon the ground, thereby 
making himself as inconspicuous as possible. His mouth watered, 
for he had noted the stranger’s plumpness, and short legs were 
not suggestive of speed. Here was fresh meat in the person of a 
slow-footed creature of the Bear Dog’s class. Kyon was preparing 
to crawl upon the unknown and surprise him with a sudden dash 
when, like a flash, his prospective victim wheeled halfway around 
and came tearing along the slopes on a course parallel to the 
river. Apparently the plump stranger had no suspicion of danger 


144 


TOTO THE XOX-PKOGKESSIVE 

lying in his path, for his line of flight led directly to the crouching , 
Bear Dog. 

Kyon growled softly and licked his chops. A lucky turn of 
fate promised to result in something greatly to his advantage. 
The reason for it soon became manifest. A chorus of howls was 
borne upon the breeze, and the next moment a score of wolflike 
forms appeared, racing madly after the fugitive and voicing their 
hungry eagerness with yelps and howls. 

The Bear Dog’s mouth expanded in a fiendish grin. “The 
dholes!” he leered. “They are hunting the quarry down. But 
this feast is not for them. Too long have I had to be content with 
their leavings, but now it is my turn,” and he waited patiently 
while his cousins of the bush fast drove the morsel into his open 
jaws. The fugitive was now near enough to give Kyon a clear 
view of him; a round-bodied, stumpy-legged beast who might 
have passed for a small rhinoceros except for his nose, which was 
long and flexible like an elephant’s trunk, although much shorter. 
He held it uplifted and his mouth was wide open as he put forth 
his best efforts to escape. That he could or would escape seemed 
unlikely, for the long-limbed bush-dogs already threatened both 
flanks, thereby preventing him from reaching either forest or 
river. He was making a last frantic effort to avoid the snapping 
jaws close behind him when suddenly a new enemy loomed before 
him in the person of a gigantic dog. 

With an agility most surprising for such an apparently clumsy 
animal, he veered sharply and leaped, the two motions resulting 
in a side-dive which landed him in a clump of bushes. His pur¬ 
suers, unable to check their momentum, collided violently with the 
Bear Dog, whose presence had escaped their notice in the excite¬ 
ment of the moment. It all happened too quickly and unex¬ 
pectedly to permit of any explanations. Each faction tore loose 


145 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

with tooth and claw, Kyon holding the center of the stage with the 
infuriated dholes slashing at him from every side. It w T as a battle- 
royal, such as he would have been glad to avoid, hut being hope¬ 
lessly in it and becoming enraged by his snarling tormentors, he 
struck out valiantly and gave as good as he got. He was a pow¬ 
erful beast, and when once his fangs and claws w T ere working 
properly, the dholes were content to give him plenty of room. 
They backed off hurriedly, hut in good order, all set to renew 
the conflict if pressed too closely, and yet more than willing to 
let matters rest without further argument. The Bear Dog felt 
similarly inclined and, although the opposing parties made much 
ado of yapping and snarling at each other, the battle ended then 
and there, with no great damage to either side. The dholes 
finally drew off the way they had come, and Kyon betook himself 
to his former station on the slopes, there to lick his numerous bites 
and growl his resentment at the departing dholes for their stu¬ 
pidity. The tender morsel so nearly within his reach was gone, 
and it began to look as though his last chance to eat of his own 
kill had gone with it. A carrion-eater he had been and a carrion- 
eater he would remain no doubt for the rest of his life. These 
were his bitter reflections, and the dholes were in an equally un- 
happy frame of mind as they slouched off with their tails drag¬ 
ging behind them. Suddenly every one of them turned half 
around with ears held at attention and eyes directed toward the 
scene of the recent encounter. From Iris place near the timber- 
line, the eyes of Kyon were drawn in the same direction. The 
bushes had rustled and parted to permit the exit of a plump short- 
legged animal. There he was, coming out exactly where he went 
in. Dholes and Bear Dog gasped at such audacity even while 
cursing their own stupid forgetfulness. With the unexpected 
clash of the two factions, it was a case of out of sight, out of mind. 


146 



HE VEERED SHARPLY AND LEAPED 

































TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


ITe had disappeared in the excitement of the moment and was 
forgotten entirely. That he had made good use of his time and 
gone off scotfree was taken for granted. But, lo and behold! 
there he was again bobbing up from where he had been lying low 
awaiting his chance. His enemies, fools that they were, might 
be feasting now instead of throwing away their opportunity and 
going off hungry. It was too much to be borne. Dholes and 
Bear Dog both made haste to remedy their error by renewing 
the chase. The former came tearing along the slopes, while Kyon 
hurried to get ahead of them, for he was fully determined to do 
his own hunting this time and make a clean job of it. 

But the plump, short-legged animal had not emerged from his 
hiding-place with the idea of being a target for his enemies. He 
had a good start, and his path to the river was now clear. Away 
he scampered and, although the dholes outran him two to one, his 
lead enabled him to reach the water first and dash in just as the 
foremost of his pursuers arrived upon the bank. For an instant 
the dholes hesitated, then they plunged in, leaving the Bear Dog 
sitting high and dry upon the bank, panting laboredly from his 
exertions. The river surface was now a turmoil of bobbing heads, 
for the dholes, exasperated by their quarry’s aversion to being 
made a meal of, were determined to get him then and there or 
drown him rather than permit his outwitting them a second time. 
But the fugitive proved to be better at navigating than moving 
about on land, for he led his enemies a merry chase, permitting 
them to get close and then darting away like an arrow. He was 
as elusive as a fish, and his speed consumed so little effort that he 
appeared quite fresh, while the dholes, now thoroughly exhausted, 
climbed out upon the hank to rest themselves. 

But that fat, short-legged animal must tire too in good time, 
they reasoned, and so, when he made as though to come ashore, 


148 


TOTO THE NOX-PROGRESSIVE 


they rushed out into the water and stood there knee deep, howling 
and yapping at him and giving him no chance to recuperate. 
Such tactics promised ultimate success, and it would seem that 
the hard beset swimmer must soon reach the end of his resources. 
He probably realized this, for seeing that the fierce bush-dogs 
were determined to prevent his landing, he made a sudden bold 
resolve. Turning his back upon the dholes, he swam out into deep 
water and passed midstream. His course pointed to the river’s 
farther shore, the border line of arid wastes and vast desolation. 
It was a line which only those specially gifted could cross with 
impunity. But the swimmer had no choice. Fierce enemies 
thronged the bank whi*ch he must reach before seeking safety in 
the forest, and so he kept on, a voyager plowing through strange 
waters toward an unknown land, the Country of the Plains. 

II 

The Plains Horses had come down to the river to drink and 
bathe. It was their custom to do this once each dav, the river 
being their main source of supply, for the Plains country con¬ 
tained little moisture, and animals living in the almost barren 
wastes needed water as much as anyone else. These horses were 
hardy creatures and, although no larger than ponies, were of good 
size as horses went in their day. Pliohippus was the leader of 
the herd. He and his companions had finished their ablutions, 
and were preparing to depart inland when they became aware 
of a commotion going on across the river. A stout-bodied beast 
of some sort was running toward the water, followed by a pack 
of dogs. The one hunted made hard work of*his running, and as 
he plunged into the water his pursuers were almost at his heels. 
At first it looked as though the fugitive had no chance whatever, 


149 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


but he soon proved that he could swim well, even though he was 
a poor runner. The dogs could not catch him, strive as they 
might, and all of them finally climbed out upon the bank, howling 
at the swimmer, who wisely kept to the element wherein he had 
shown such ability to avoid his enemies. The Plains Horses could 
see his head moving about in the water. They were wondering 
how long he could stay there without rest when they noticed the 
head growing larger and pointed their way with a path of foam 
and bubbles trailing along behind it. All became interested, for 
it was unusual for forest animals to venture across the river to a 
region which offered them so few attractions. The head came 
nearer and nearer, until it reached shallow water, then it arose, 
and a plump body appeared behind it all wet and glistening like 
that of a reptile emerged from the depths. The newcomer splashed 
his way along until within a few yards of dry land and then he 
stopped, with his feet in the water, gazing timidly at the assem¬ 
bled horses and exhibiting much embarrassment at seeing so many 
pairs of eyes directed upon him. The Plains Horses thought him 
a new variety of rhinoceros at first, although his nose was very 
unrhinoceros-like, being long and flexible, and bearing no horn. 
Pliohippus called to him from the bank: 

“Who are you?” 

The stranger blinked and screwed up his big nose. “Toto the 
Tapir,” he replied. 

“The Tapir? Are you the only one?” Pliohippus inquired. 
He had never seen a tapir until this moment. 

The plump creature grew more and more embarrassed. “The 
only one I know of,” he mumbled. 

“Um, a browser,” thought Pliohippus. Browsers were hoofed 
animals whose short-crowned teeth could not be used for chewing 
hard, tough substances, although they did well enough on green 


150 


TOTO THE XOX-PROGRESS-IVE 


leaves, tender shoots and other soft food. “Have you no friends?” 
the Plains Horse asked. 

The Tapir did not seem to understand at first. “Xo, I haven’t 
anything,” he said. “But when I see many animals of one kind 

together, I feel-” he stopped and looked so wistfully from one 

face to another that all felt sorry for him. 

“You feel lonesome,” said the Plains Horse, “but old-fash¬ 
ioned animals are scarce. One rarely sees them nowadays.” 

Toto looked up quickly with his head cocked on one side. “Am 
I old-fashioned?” he asked. 

“Yes,” said Pliohippus, looking the other over appraisingly. 
“Too fat-bodied and short-legged; nose—well I never saw such a 
queer nose, and as for your feet, I don’t know; I can’t see them.” 

Toto obligingly waded out of the water and halted high and 
dry upon the bank, thereby exposing all four of his feet for in¬ 
spection. The effect upon Pliohippus was electrical. Uttering a 
surprised snort, he stood like one transfixed with nostrils dilated 
and eyes starting from his head. 

“Who are you?” he gasped. “Is a tapir some form of horse? 
Look, friends, and see: this creature is one of us. He is odd¬ 
toed.” 

The horses all gathered about Toto in great excitement and 
examined the feet in question, much to their owner’s confusion. 
It was as their leader had said. The Tapir’s feet at first glance 
seemed like shapeless pads of flesh, but the third or middle hoof 
was the largest and supported more weight than any of its fellows. 
Enlargement of the middle hoof and shrinkage of those on either 
side of it was the badge distinguishing Odd-toed from Even-toed 
animals. The latter carried the weight on each of their feet with 
two toes instead of one; two just alike, and so close together that 
they might be mistaken for one hoof split in two. All hoofed 


151 



STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


beasts were either Odd or Even-toed. To the Plains Horses it 
was an amazing discovery, this finding that the Tapir was one of 
their own kin. All were mightily pleased. But to Pliohippus, 
Toto’s presence meant more than a happy family reunion. The 
Tapir was alone, probably the last of his kind, all because he was 
old-fashioned and had not kept up with the changing world. But 
it was not toq late if he could be induced to improve himself as 
the horses had done. 

“Will you stay with us?” Pliohippus inquired of him when 
the first excitement was over. “We can be your friends and help 
you. It is not yet too late.” 

“Too late for what?” Toto asked, much puzzled. 

“To change. You are too fat and short-legged. With no 
horns or tusks to fight with, how do you expect to avoid fierce 
enemies? You can’t even run.” 

Toto mumbled something about having managed fairly well 
thus far, but the Plains Horse gazed at him so reprovingly that 
he glanced down at his feet abashed. They were pudgy and 
heavily soled with callous pads. Pliohippus studied them criti¬ 
cally. “Wrong shape and too many toes,” he snorted. Toto 
began to feel discouraged. “My feet? I never knew that any¬ 
thing was wrong with them. How many toes should I have?” 

“One,” was the prompt answer. 

Toto glanced from his own to his companion’s feet. “Is that 
all? Why do you have more?” he inquired blandly. 

Pliohippus frowned and bit his lips. He had three toes on 
each foot. This he could not deny, although to all intents and 
purposes he was one-toed. The two little ones dangled too high 
up to be of any use. They were the remnants of olden days, 
when horses had three toes, all of which touched the ground. 
Pliohippus would have been glad to be rid of them, but they still 


152 





TOTO HALTED HIGH AND DRY UPON THE BANK 























STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

clung to his feet like dew-claws. The Tapir had touched upon a 
tender subject, but his air of innocence and inexperience was dis¬ 
arming. He meant no offense. 

“Those little extra toes will come off some day,” Pliohippus 
explained. “But it means much work. Yours must come off, 
too.” 

“How?” asked Toto. 

“Running on hard ground,” Pliohippus replied. “You can 
wear those thick soles down to the bare hoof at the same time.” 

“I don’t believe I would like that,” Toto objected, but the 
Plains Horse would not listen. He kept dwelling upon Toto’s 
imperfections until the latter began to think himself a very in¬ 
ferior animal. “Nobody ever told me this before,” he said, then 
bowed his head and sighed deeply, as though realizing that his 
being a tapir was a most unfortunate circumstance. 

Pliohippus turned the matter over in his mind. The Tapir 
interested him strangely. He did not know that in long ages past 
horses and tapirs were very much alike. The first had progressed, 
while the latter had remained almost stationary, and that was 
why they now appeared so very different. But the Tapir still 
wore his big third toe, the badge of kinship, and Pliohippus was 
profoundly impressed. “You must remain with us,” he declared, 
“Do as we do and who knows but that some day you will become 
a horse?” 

Toto could hardly believe his ears. “I a horse?” he exclaimed, 
looking from one to another of the faces about him. 

All agreed that the transformation was feasible, whether they 
believed it or not. It was a novel idea, one that caught their 
fancy, and they were interested in seeing it tried. Toto himself 
began to view it with favor. He would have friends which he 
wanted badly, and now that he had been declared a creature of 


154 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


low caste, he was not unwilling to better himself. The upshot of 
the matter was that the herd of Plains Horses marched off, taking 
Toto with them. 

As they left the river border and reached higher ground, the 
Tapir almost lost heart at sight of the barren wastes extending 
before him and on both sides as far as he could see. “No trees?” 
he gasped. “How can animals live without trees?” 

His companions made haste to assure him that trees were 
luxuries, fit only for fat and slow-moving beasts. They encour¬ 
aged laziness, and were not meant for high-class animals. Horses 
could live without trees, and did. 

Toto would have remonstrated, being still a tapir and not a 
horse as yet, but he hated argument, and so held his peace. Then, 
too, he was by this time filled with the notion of bettering himself. 
Some bad must be expected with the good. The march was re¬ 
sumed, and soon the river lay far behind him. Toto was now pre¬ 
pared to endure many discomforts, but as he saw more and more 
of the plains country, his heart grew heavier, until it felt like lead. 
Dust-laden air to breathe and hard ground to walk on; scanty 
grass-tufts sticking straight up like stiff brushes; no ponds, mud- 
holes or moisture of anv kind; all bare and lifeless beneath a broil- 
ing sun. Toto almost rebelled at this appalling state of tilings. 
He turned his head and gazed anxiously in the direction from 
which he had come. “What an awful country,” he thought to 
himself. “No place to drink and bathe. Perhaps I ought not 
to have ventured so far from home.” 

His reflections were interrupted by a movement in the herd. 
His companions had increased their pace to a trot. No exertion 
for them, but Toto had to gallop his hardest to keep up. A mile 
or so of the hot, suffocating atmosphere was enough for him. He 
stopped, thoroughly exhausted, and the herd stopped with him. 


155 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

“What is wrong now?” Pliohippus demanded. “Don’t you like 
running your extra toes off?” 

Toto could only roll his eyes and gasp. Running his toes off 
was no fun, but his lungs were too full of dust for him to say so. 
While waiting for him to recover, the Plains Horses amused them¬ 
selves by nibbling the tufts of grass growing sparsely about them. 
Pliohippus watched the Tapir from the corners of his eyes. “Poor 
wind comes from too rich eating,” he said; “but you cannot be 
changed in a day. These are our feeding-grounds. You may eat 
when you feel like it.” 

Toto was soon sufficiently restored to absorb more knowl¬ 
edge concerning his new life. He glanced from one grass-tuft to 
another, there being nothing else in the vicinity suggesting food. 
They appeared tough and uninviting, but judging by the way his 
companions nibbled and crunched, they must be unusually choice 
delicacies. He bent low and grasped one with his flexible trunk, 
and would have plucked it had not Pliohippus interposed. 

“Hold!” said the Plains Horse in a shocked voice. “Who ever 
heard of eating with one’s nose? Use your teeth.” 

Toto released his grip and endeavored to nibble, but with poor 
success. Plis trunk got in the way, and when after repeated at¬ 
tempts he secured a mouthful, the taste almost made him ill. 
“Ugh!” he snorted in disgust. “What horrible stuff! I never can 
eat it.” 

The Plains Horses were amazed. What was good enough for 
them should please anybody, and a Tapir was no exception. It 
simply went to show how rich food and easy living could spoil 
some animals. They were beginning to think that converting 
Toto into a horse might prove an extremely difficult task. 

As for the Tapir, although rather appalled by the magnitude 
of the undertaking confronting him, he was too glad at finding 


156 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


friends who took an interest in him and too eager to better himself 
to give up easily. He might be meek and shy, but beneath his un¬ 
prepossessing exterior lurked unbounded patience and persis¬ 
tence. How to manage without trees and water seemed a problem 
incapable of solution, but hunger, thirst and the lack of bathing 
facilities had not yet become unbearable, and so when the Plains 
Horses announced their intention of moving on, he was ready to 
proceed. 

The air of the plains which had seemed strangely hot and dry, 
grew hotter and drier, impelled by a strong wind, which stirred 
up the surface soil and filled Toto’s eyes and nostrils with irritat¬ 
ing dust. He was sneezing and coughing to rid his nose and 
throat of the fine particles which annoyed them, when Pliohippus 
suddenly called a halt. A brownish haze had appeared above the 
western horizon, rising and spreading rapidly like a pall and 
shutting off all view of the sky. To the horses familiar with plains 
phenomena, it was a danger signal not to be disregarded. The 
haze meant a dust storm, pulverized soil gathered up and borne 
along in clouds by a strong wind, threatening death by suffoca¬ 
tion to every creature in its path. None might hope to outrun 
it, but fleet-footed animals could avoid it by fleeing to one side. 
It came from the west, and as the herd was placed nearer to its 
southern flank than the northern, they chose the direction which 
promised safety, galloping southward as fast as their legs would 
carry them. 

The Tapir was left alone, a solitary creature, standing in the 
path of the storm, and not swift-footed enough to escape by 
flight. On swept the cloud of wind-borne particles, a wall of dust 
which now darkened the sun and obscured the Tapir’s vision of 
everything about him. He dashed away, not to one side as the 


157 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


horses had done, but straight ahead, as though to outrun the 
storm. 

But Toto was not thinking to escape by flight. He was look¬ 
ing for a place to hide. It seemed a poor chance, for the ground 
was as bare as a board, but just as the dust-wall came swirling 
about him, something yawned in his path—a hole. He plunged 
in. It was not a large hole, probably the home of some rodent, 
and intended for one smaller than himself. He managed to insert 
his head and neck, but that was as far as he could get, and there 
he stuck like an oversized cork in a small bottle. The storm swept 
over him with a rush, but his nose and eyes were now protected 
from further inroads of dust. The hole also contained air which 
could be breathed. He felt the dust-laden wind buffeting him 
sternwise and amidships, and doing its best to dislodge him, but 
his bows grounded in the hole held him too firmly to be torn loose. 
This endured for but a few moments; then the pressure upon his 
body slackened. The storm swept over him and was gone leaving 
behind it a stilled, dust-laden atmosphere w T hich discharged its 
burden in slowly descending showers. 

The danger had now passed but Toto still remained with 
head stuck in his refuge, making sure before again trusting him¬ 
self in the open. The air in the hole began to oppress his lungs. 
His brain whirled and it seemed as though he heard faint voices 
and felt a jarring of the earth. Something touched his hind¬ 
quarters, a soft muzzle with sniffing nostrils. Toto backed hastily 
out of the hole and looked about him. A host of strange-looking 
beasts stood there w T atching him, apparently much mystified by 
his presence. They were hoofed beasts, and not flesh-eaters as 
the Tapir could see at a glance; therefore he did not consider him¬ 
self to be in any immediate danger. However, he kept his wits 


158 


TOTO BACKED HASTILY OUT OF THE HOLE AND LOOKED 

ABOUT HIM 





























STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


about him, wondering how all of those animals had come there 
and what they wanted of him. 

Ill 

The newcomers were a herd of camels. Having followed in 
the wake of the dust-storm, they had halted to investigate the 
plump creature lying in their path. Some considered it a huge 
rodent while others more observing pronounced it a hoofed beast 
of some sort; a new variety of pig or possibly a rhinoceros and 
probably dead. But much to their surprise, it suddenly jumped 
up and stood before them with head bowed meekly like one con¬ 
demned awaiting the ax. 

“Are you a rhinoceros?” one of the camels inquired, “or 
merely a pig? We never saw your like before.” 

Toto sneezed, coughed the dust from his throat and answered: 
“Neither, I am only a Tapir,” then held his peace, overwhelmed 
by the ring of faces about him. 

His explanation seemed to the camels far from clear. None 
of them knew what a Tapir was. 

“Hoofed animal?” a voice asked. 

Toto nodded his head and mumbled, “yes,” whereupon his 
hearers all blinked at each other and smacked their lips as much 
as to say, “I told you so.” 

“Grazer?” someone suggested. Grazers had long-crowned 
teeth so as to provide for the wear resulting from chewing tough 
food such as dried grass or seeds. 

For reply, Toto humbly regretted to state that he was a 
browser, greatly to everyone’s surprise, for none but grazing 
animals had heretofore been known to venture upon the plains. 
He admitted apologetically that he had been presumptuous even 


160 


TOTO THE XOX-PROGRESSIVE 


though someone had advised him to try his fortune in the new 
country. He was old-fashioned, in other words, an inferior 
animal who needed enlightenment and besides he wanted friends 
to cheer him up. 


The camels displayed keen interest in his recital and when he 
explained further his tendency to be odd-toed and related to the 
horse, they not only blinked and smacked their lips as seemed 
to be their custom, but also snorted as though greatly impressed. 

“What do you intend to do about it?” they asked. 

“Make something better of myself,” Toto replied. “I can’t 
fight and I can’t run. There is much to learn.” 

Yes, a browser had much to learn if he intended to make his 
home in the plains country. Many had tried it and failed, while 
only a few succeeded. The camels were eager to know what the 
Tapir had done thus far to produce results. 

“I tried to be a horse like my cousin,” said Toto, “but with 
poor success. Running my extra toes off and doing without 
w T ater were more than I could bear.” 


His audience was deeply moved. Xone of them could see 
any reason for his undergoing severe hardships even for a good 
purpose. However, if he was set on bettering himself, why not 
choose the best and easiest way? Horses were not the highest 
class of hoofed animals. 

Toto pricked up his ears at this. He had found it hard work 
trying to be a horse. That he might be something even better 
and have an easy time doing it, appealed to him strongly. “What 
else can I be?” he inquired. 

A fine question! His hearers were not at all pleased at such 
a display of crass ignorance. What else? Why if he had any eyes 
in his head it was a simple matter for him to see and choose. He 


161 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


might become a camel, for instance, provided he had sense 
enough. 

A most wonderful idea. Toto gazed in awe at the many 
faces about him. “What must I do to be a camel?” he asked 
eagerly. 

One of the herd, acting as spokesman, explained that he must 
learn to run, of course, and eat such plants and grasses as grew 
upon the plains. However, he might keep two toes on each foot 
instead of reducing the number to one, and as for water, that 
was a problem which camels had solved ages ago. They car¬ 
ried an abundant supply 'with them, enough to last for days 
at a time. 

Toto listened attentively to all this, and the more he heard 
the more feasible it appeared for him to become a camel; much 
more so than struggling further to be a horse. One less toe to 
run off and an assured water supply were strong inducements. 
He resolved then and there to throw in his lot with his newly- 
discovered friends. Having made this decision, he was accepted 
as a camel in the making, and marched off in the center of the 
herd, more than willing to do his part, but as he trotted along 
in high spirits, the dearth of trees and moisture would insist 
upon rising up like spectres to disturb his peace of mind, no 
matter how hard he tried to forget them. His first impressions 
of the Plains country were charming compared with what he now 
felt on getting farther into it. The grass tufts grew sparser and 
more bristly 7 " and the only other vegetation in sight consisted of 
most unattractive-looking and ill-smelling plants. The sun, 
blazing from a cloudless sky, sent down its hot rays upon the 
Tapir’s scantily-clothed body. Toto’s mouth and throat were 
hot and dry, and so, when he considered that he had endured 
enough to warrant his being given some relief, he announced 


162 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


himself ready and willing to share the water which his friends 
carried about with them. His thirst had become intolerable and, 
besides, he needed a bath. 

But, to his consternation, he now learned that the camels 
were unable to help him. They all carried water, to be sure, 
but it was in their stomachs, where he could not get at it. Every 
one of them had a compartment inside of him containing a re¬ 
serve water supply, which could be drawn upon as needed. 
Camels were thus peculiarly enabled to travel great distances in 
dry country, where other animals would perish of thirst. All 
very fine for them, but unfortunate for the Tapir, seeing that 
the water in their stomachs was beyond his reach. It was a pity 
that he had not been told all this in the first place, for knowing 
it he would never have come. The camels were not inclined to 
take the matter very seriously, but to Toto the situation was an 
appalling one. No water! He would surely die if he didn’t 
get some soon. His hopes were blasted suddenly and com¬ 
pletely. A camel’s life had no more attractions for him. His 
one thought now was, how to get out of the desperate situation 
in which he found himself. As he gazed over the barren wastes, 
hoping against hope, some distant objects moving among the 
tufts of vegetation caught his eye. They were moving slowly 
and keeping close to the ground, as though anxious to avoid 
being seen. The camels did not observe them at first, and not 
until Toto called their attention to the strange animals approach¬ 
ing, did they sense the danger and take alarm. All stood trem¬ 
bling and staring until the newcomers came near enough to be 
distinguished. “Desert dogs!” they screamed in terror, and gal¬ 
loped off in a cloud of dust, whereat the skulkers rose to their 
feet and followed after. 

Toto did not run, although the pack was now bearing down 


163 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


upon him with the speed of lightning. He stood in their plain 
view, with feet rooted to the ground and apparently too terror- 
stricken to move. His legs doubled up under him and he sank 
slowly to the ground. There he lay as motionless as the grass 
clumps and plants which dotted the plains about him. 

On came the desert-dogs, a pack of lean-bodied, long-limbed 
brutes to the number of twenty or more. Their voices were 
silent to save the breath which they needed for a long stern 
chase after the fleeing camel herd. Their mouths were wide 
open, showing their white fangs and blood-red tongues. They 
ran like the wind with muscles straining and long-haired tails 
streaming along behind them. None of them could have failed 
to see the inconspicuous object lying in their path but it lay 
motionless and consequently failed to detract attention from 
the galloping camels beyond. They swept down upon and over 
it an avalanche of swiftly-moving bodies and rushing feet. 

And still the Tapir never budged. Only a stout heart or 
stupefied nerves could have endured that mad charge and re¬ 
pressed the frantic impulse to rise in terror and seek safety in 
useless flight. One gaunt beast avoided the strange obstacle in 
his path by leaping high over it. The pack flew past and was 
gone. 

Not until pursued and pursuers had faded away in the dis¬ 
tance did Toto show any sign of life; then he raised his head 
and looked cautiously about him. The plains had relapsed into 
their former desolation. Not a single living object, only bush- 
grass and dwarfed plants dotted the landscape for miles around. 
He was safe from the desert-dogs for a time at least and so it 
behooved him to get out of sight at once in case they returned. 
Now that a camel’s life was impossible, home seemed the best 
place to go to, assuming that he could find the right direction 


164 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


and make the journey in his present parched state. Toto stood 
erect and tested the air with Ills nose. Either his sense of direc¬ 
tion was good or else his nose found the necessary information; 
at any rate when he trotted off, his course led straight to the 
river. The latter was not so very far away, but beneath the 
sun’s scorching rays and with his thirst become more maddening 
with every step, the journey seemed to him endless. When he 
finally did arrive at his destination, the sun had about dis¬ 
appeared below the western horizon. Toto drank, bathed and 
satisfied his hunger with some plants growing near the water’s 
edge, then rested until nightfall, when the darkness gave him 
his opportunity to swim over to the forest side of the river. 
No one observed him, and the short walk up the slopes to the 
w T oods passed without incident. Toto breathed a deep sigh of 
relief wiien at last he found himself beneath the shelter of 
friendly trees. The forest now seemed a paradise compared 
with the barren country he had so recently visited. He might 
be old-fashioned physically and inferior to other animals but 
this was the life for him and never again would be give it up 
even to better himself. It struck him as odd that the squirrels 
and birds whose voices disturbed the night stillness, show r ed no 
signs of dissatisfaction wath their condition. Apparently none 
of them cared about changing themselves into something else 
as they moved about, chattering and chirping gaily. Every 
one of them seemed happy enough, but why? Was it because 
they knew no better or because they w^ere really w r ell off? Toto 
pondered long and deeply over these matters until his brain 
grew weary and he fell asleep. When morning came, his har¬ 
rowing experiences of the day before seemed more like products 
of his imagination than actual occurrences. Perhaps he had 
eaten something that disagreed with him and given rise to bad 


165 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


dreams, for never would he have considered the practicability 
of a plains life when in his sober mind. And yet, he looked 
down at liis odd-toed feet and sighed. The forest w r as a lone¬ 
some place; no friends in it who cared for him. Solitude, yes 
that was his trouble. He had learned in his lonely life to dread 
it more than anything else. Because of that alone, he had ven¬ 
tured into the open in search of friends, prepared to suffer dis¬ 
comforts or even death rather than endure longer his sombre 
isolation. Inferiority did not count for much. He would wil¬ 
lingly change himself into a worm provided it gave him friends. 
He was wondering if these would ever be his portion in life 
when a noise sounded in the woods, and looking about him, he 
discovered something that resembled an animal. It was an 
emaciated body resting upon four stilt-like legs. Toto could see 
no more and being curious, he ventured closer, which enabled 
him to obtain a view of the unknown’s feet. The latter turned 
out to be cloven-hoofed, signifying that their owner was an 
even-toed creature. Toto felt greatly relieved, for the woods 
were filled with prowling beasts of prey and nobody knew whose 
turn would come next. However, any anxiety he may have 
felt proved ill-founded for all hoofed animals were plant-eaters 
and therefore comparatively harmless. 

Thus far Toto had seen nothing of the stranger’s head and 
was wondering what had become of it when the branches and 
leaves high above waved violently and the head in question 
peered forth. It was that of a camel perched upon a remarkably 
long neck and the latter merged into the emaciated body which 
rested upon the stilt-like legs tipped with cloven hoofs. All of 
these ’widely-separated parts went to make up the Giraffe Camel, 
a creature over eight feet tall. He was breakfasting and had 
first attracted Toto’s attention by the commotion he made when 


166 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


nosing about in the foliage. His eyes twinkled as they rested 
upon the Tapir beneath him. “What an odd-looking person,” 
he said. “Is it a pig?” 

These remarks were delivered in a patronizing tone such as 
one would use in addressing an inferior, but Toto felt no of¬ 
fense, for he was pleased at being noticed and spoken to in a 
friendly manner by the tall creature. After humbly disclaim¬ 
ing any affiliation with swine, he declared himself to be a mere 
tapir, adding in explanation of his humble state that he had but 
recently endeavored to make better of himself by venturing 
into the Plains country and trving to become a horse. 

The Giraffe Camel was astonished. “A most remarkable 
notion coming from one like you,” he exclaimed. “Did you 
succeed in becoming a horse?” 

“No, I did not.” Toto did not go into details. The remem¬ 
brance of them was far from pleasant. However, his new ac¬ 
quaintance expressed no desire to learn more. His mind had 
not yet recovered from the shock of the main idea. “I never 
■would have thought of beginning such a hopeless undertak¬ 
ing,” he remarked. “I for one would find it much better and 
easier being a camel than being a horse.” 

These words of wisdom impressed Toto deeply in that they 
corroborated what the Grazing Camels had said only the day 
before. And yet he felt grave doubts. Being a camel was not 
as easy as it appeared. He knew because he had tried it. 
“Everything went wrong,” he sniffed, “and I guess that the 
best thing for me to do is to remain a browser and forest animal 
the rest of my life.” 

The Giraffe Camel was silent for a few moments searching 
his mind for an answer to the other’s arguments, then his eyes 
brightened. 


167 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


“Your idea was good,” he said. “However, you began 
wrong. Why go to all the trouble and worry of learning to 
become a grazing horse when you might stay at home all nice 
and comfortable and remain a browser? You never thought 
of that.” 

No, Toto had not, but now that someone else had thought 
of it for him, he was quite impressed. It was all clear now. 
He could have retained the old forest life and climbed out of 
his rut, both at the same time. Was it still too late? “Can I 
change now?” he asked. “Can I become a browsing horse?” 

The Giraffe Camel pursed up his bps scornfully. “Who 
said horse?” he snapped. “I know I didn’t, and besides there 
are no more left. A big puma got the very last one.” Toto 
was much distressed. “No more browsing horses?” he squealed. 
“Then I can’t be anything but myself.” 

His tall companion experienced a feeling of genuine sym¬ 
pathy. Why any animal should want to become some other 
was beyond him; but the Tapir seemed bent on a change and 
there was one way to oblige him. 

“Why don’t you learn to be a browsing camel?” he sug¬ 
gested. 

The thrills chased each other up and down Toto’s spine. 
His hopes thrice blasted were again revived. He gazed in awe 
at the giant. One of such impressive appearance must indeed 
be a superior animal. “Can I be like you?” he asked, jumping 
up and down with delight. “When shall I begin?” 

“Now,” was the answer. “But first you must make your 
neck and legs grow. They are much too short.” 

Toto’s face fell. “How am I to do that?” 

The Giraffe Camel didn’t know. His neck and legs had 
been long ever since he could remember. The Tapir would 


168 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


have to stretch himself somehow. Of course this would entail 
much effort and require considerable time. 

“I might be a short-necked, short-legged camel,” said Toto. 
“Then I need not change much of anything.” 

Not a bad idea; perhaps it could be arranged. The tall 
creature could see no objections; and yet, there were other 
difficulties. “What will you do about your nose?” he asked. 
“One like yours would look odd on the face of a, camel.” 

Toto began to feel rebellious. His nose was a most useful 
tool for grasping things and he would not change it for any¬ 
body. He said as much, and rather boldly, too, for being asked 
to give up things he liked, and to do this and that disagreeable 
thing, were beginning to ruffle his ordinarily serene temper. 
The Giraffe Camel lifted his brows. The little, fat, short¬ 
legged animal had suddenly abandoned his air of humility for 
one of presumption. “You must change not only your nose 
but your neck and legs, too,” he said haughtily. 

Toto did not reply. His sharp ears had detected a faint 
snapping which sounded like twigs trodden upon by soft, heavy 
feet. The Giraffe Camel had not heard, for he went on as 
though he thought himself perfectly secure. “With a long 
neck like mine you may look down upon approaching enemies 
and long legs will enable you to run from them,” he remarked 
sagely. 

Toto remained as silent and motionless as a graven image. 
The noise sounded nearer now and he could make out a dark 
form crawling stealthily in his direction. He set himself for a 
quick dash through some bushes placed conveniently near. 

The Giraffe Camel was about to deliver further words of 
wisdom when suddenly the crawling figure gathered its limbs 
under it and sprang through the air, alighting upon the tall 

169 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


creature’s back. Down fell the giant, his neck broken by one 
wrench of his assailant’s powerful jaws. But the latter had 
no stomach for a skinny camel, mostly neck and legs. There 
was a far more tender morsel at hand which in his haste he 
had passed over. Its quick dive into the bushes had not 
escaped his keen eye. Disentangling himself from his victim, 
he bounded after the fleeing Tapir. Toto must do his best 
now to escape, for he had to do with the fiercest, strongest and 
swiftest of forest-dwellers, the Giant Puma. 

Realizing fully that he was no match for his pursuer in 
speed, Toto made use of every art he knew to throw the Giant 
Puma off his track. Contrary to what might have been ex¬ 
pected of a robust and clumsy animal, he chose the most difficult 
path where hanging vines, dense brush and fallen trees gave 
little room to squeeze through. But Toto showed masterly skill 
in finding openings and although greatly impeded, he fared 
better than his enemy who floundered helplessly among the 
entanglements and finally broke away from them in disgust. 
The big cat tried to circumvent the Tapir by turning to a more 
passable although circuitous route through the woods, but in 
spite of this strategy he failed again for Toto was not the one 
to take unnecessary steps and when the Giant Puma arrived at 
where the two paths crossed, his quarry was not there. The 
latter lay hidden where his tracker had last left him to take the 
easier route. Toto seemed to know instinctively that only by 
the noise he made, could his pursuer ferret him out and so he 
lay perfectly quiet while the Giant Puma tramped here and 
there muttering angrily to himself because the Tapir, once nearly 
within his grasp, had escaped so easily. 

Toto remained hidden in the underbrush for a long time just 
to make sure that his foe was beyond hearing distance, then he 


170 



DEATH OF THE GIRAFFE CAMEL 








































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


rose and glided noiselessly away. The vines and nnderbrush 
thinned out after a time and he emerged into a wide expanse 
of forest-land, bare of bushes and other low-lying vegetation. 
He was considering the wisdom of his appearing in a region 
so scantily furnished with hiding-places when he heard voices 
and his nose caught a strange odor. However, the latter was 
not that of a puma or other flesh-eater; therefore he stood his 
ground and in time discerned many round bristly backs moving 
in and out among the trees and coming toward him. The sight 
of them eased his mind, for he knew them to be peccaries or 
forest-pigs, familiar figures but ones with whom he had never 
been intimate. 

As they drew nearer, those in front saw Toto and recog¬ 
nized him, and soon the whole lot of them were gathered closely 
about him. Although not intent on mischief they were rather 
brusque in requesting the Tapir to explain just why he hap¬ 
pened to be there. 

Toto gave an account of his adventure with the Giant Puma, 
whereat the peccaries bristled and gnashed their teeth in a way 
that showed how cordially they hated the big cat. They reviled 
him for a skulker and declared themselves eager to annihilate 
him if ever he dared show himself. To the Tapir, this sounded 
like vain boasting, but when he spoke of the Giant Puma as the 
fiercest and strongest of forest creatures, the peccaries grunted 
loudly in scorn. “That is what comes of being a Tapir,” they 
said. “Why don’t you fight instead of hiding and running 
away?” 

Toto bowed his head for very shame. He could not help 
but admit himself to be a peaceable sort unfit for fighting and 
of no great use to the world. However, he had made much 


172 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


effort to improve himself. Only yesterday he had visited the 
Plains country and endeavored to become a horse. 

By the way the peccaries stared at him, then at each other, 
it was easy to see that the whole master was beyond their power 
of understanding. That a forest animal should venture into 
the barren wastes was inexplicable enough, but the idea of his 
wanting to be one other than himself was absolutely beyond 
them. “Why be a horse?” someone grunted. “You would 
only wish yourself something else.” 

“I did try to be something else,” Toto answered quickly. 
“Learning to be a horse was so difficult that I gave it up and 
endeavored to become a camel.” 

The peccaries could scarcely believe their ears. The Tapir 
had been a most eccentric creature as they well knew, but now 
he must have lost his mind entirely. 

“Learning to be a camel was as difficult as learning to be 
a horse,” Toto went on. “I couldn’t live in the Plains country 
with no water or trees, so I came back to the forest side of the 
river. There I met a browsing camel.” 

“Oomp,” grunted a voice. “I thought that all of the brows¬ 
ing camels were gone. What did he do?” 

“Not much,” was the reply. “The big cat killed him and then 
chased me. He thought that I could be like him but my neck 
and legs were too short, so I did not try. It is much easier 
being a Tapir even if I do have to live alone the rest of my life.” 

The peccaries listened attentively to all this. The Tapir was 
certainly a creature of extraordinary ideas. “Why don’t you 
become like us?” someone suggested. “We are many and a pig 
is as good as a horse or camel or anyone else.” 

Toto did not accept this offer as quickly as he might for his 
various unpleasant experiences had filled his mind with grave 


173 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


doubts. As a Tapir he had not managed so badly thus far. It 
was trying to be somebody else that got him into so much trouble. 
A plains life was hopeless^ and as for the forest, perhaps he was as 
good as anyone in it. Anyhow a live Tapir could be no worse 
off than a dead horse or camel. But the peccaries mistook his 
hesitancy for refusal and that angered them. Perhaps the Tapir 
considered them inferior animals. Did he or did he not? 

No, indeed; Toto made his decision at once, for the sight of 
all those pigs glaring and gnashing their teeth made him nervous. 
His efforts would be directed at becoming a peccary at once; so 
he assured them. Thus was the Tapir launched upon a new ca¬ 
reer and all being satisfactorily arranged, he set himself to the 
not entirely agreeable task of learning to be a forest-pig. Mean¬ 
while his associates had turned from him to root about in search 
of food, an occupation wherein they displayed outrageous man¬ 
ners, getting in one another’s way and jostling each other rudely. 
When some found choice tidbits the others tried to rob them. 
This made trouble, for every pig of the lot was determined either 
to keep what he had or get it from someone else and soon the 
whole drove was engaged in a free-for-all fight. Teeth gleamed, 
blows were struck and blood trickled down many a gashed flank 
and shoulder. The woods resounded with the din of battle: 
grunts, squeals and the stamping of feet. Toto retreated to the 
outskirts of the fray and looked on, an amazed and anxious spec¬ 
tator. “What quarrelsome beasts,” he thought to himself. “I 
wish they wouldn’t make so much noise. That and the blood- 
smell will surely bring the flesh-eaters upon us.” 

As if in reply, a lithe, sinewy form glided into view from 
among the trees. It pounced upon the nearest peccary and 
stretched him lifeless upon the ground with a single blow of its 
paw. So sudden and unexpected was the attack that before the 


174 



“A LIVE TAPIR IS BETTER THAN A DEAD PIG.” 
















TOTO THE XOX-PROGRESSIVE 


drove could meet it another of their number lay dead. Civil war 
terminated abruptly and all united to meet the Giant Puma, their 
common enemy. The disorganized rabble became a fighting ma¬ 
chine, as every peccary sprang to his place. Shoulder to shoulder, 
with ranks pressed close, they bore down upon the big cat, their 
teeth gnashing and their little eyes blazing like hot coals. 

The Giant Puma met the assault by seizing the foremost pig 
in his jaws, then dropped it hastily with a furious snarl, as his 
assailants closed in and bit him in a dozen places at once. He 
bowled them over one after another with mighty paw swings, but 
for every pig put out of action there was another to take his place, 
and soon the big cat was so perforated by their sharp teeth that 
he lost heart. Yowling dismally, he leaped clear of his tormen¬ 
tors and tore off through the woods with the peccaries hot after 
him. It had been a brief battle, but a sanguinary one, for fully a 
third of the drove lay dead upon the ground. Only one living 
animal remained to view the scene of carnage, and that one was 
Toto, who had taken no part in the fray. “A live Tapir is better 
than- a dead pig,” he reflected, “and if they don’t let that big cat 
alone there won’t be any more pigs.” It was his final effort. All 
desire to be some other animal was gone. The difficulties were 
insurmountable. He would remain a Tapir to the end of his days. 
Having arrived at this decision he left the battlefield and plunged 
into the forest, farther than he had ever been. The trees grew 
closer and closer together as he progressed, and were all interlaced 
with vines and festoons of damp moss. Toto stopped to sniff 
the air and learn the meaning of its peculiar odor. His scent was 
keen and it told him that some distance beyond lay something 
of which he was extremely fond—water. He moved on. The 
traveling was extremely difficult now, and it grew more so with 
every step he took. The trees seemed to spring one from an- 

175 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


other, the vines and moss were an endless succession of spreading 
nets and the closely packed underbrush filling every opening, rose 
up before him like an impenetrable wall. It seemed hopeless for 
any animal to attempt such a passage, hut Toto found holes 
somehow, and where there were none he pushed, squirmed and 
battered his way through until at last scattered rays of sunlight 
pierced the leaf-roof overhead, vines and underbrush suddenly 
thinned out and he emerged upon the shore of a large pond. Tall 
rushes grew near the water’s edge, and beyond them floated great 
heart-shaped leaves with white and yellow buds protruding. A 
splash and round ripples one within another marked the presence 
of some fish come for a moment to the surface. Another splash 
and a big soft-shelled turtle dumped himself into the water from 
his basking place on a partly submerged log. Gnats, dragonflies 
and other insects buzzed merrily as they darted hither and thither. 
The voices of singing birds filled the air, and many of the little 
feathered creatures were visible 'winging their way in and out 
among the trees. Coots, grebes and other water-fowl could be seen 
paddling over the surface of the pond. All seemed happy and 
carefree. It was a region of peace and contentment. 

Toto noted that the place harbored no large animals, cats or 
dogs in particular. He was lord of all he surveyed, for as far as 
fierce enemies were concerned, he had this paradise all to himself. 
After drinking, bathing and filling his stomach 'with certain leaves 
and buds pleasing to his taste, he settled down upon his haunches 
to view the scenery and appraise the many advantages of his new 
home. It was springtime and, although the various seasons were 
with difficulty distinguished one from another, Spring was ever 
the time of cheer, and to Toto it brought hope of happy days to 
come. The abundance of water and green, succulent plants meant 
relief from want. Behind him lay the jungle, a wall placed there 

176 


TOTO THE NON-PROGRESSIVE 


to keep out undesirable intruders. The advantages of his new 
abiding place gave him the first real sense of security he had ever 
known. They made him feel satisfied with being a Tapir and, to 
tell the truth, his recent harrowing experiences had already con¬ 
vinced him how foolish he had been to think of being anything 
else. Gone was his feeling of inferiority. He did not miss the 
society of other animals, for they were strangers and he could 
not learn their ways. True, he was lonesome, but it had ever been 
so since he was old enough to do without someone to feed and 
protect him. Although not remembering this someone as his 
mother, he still retained vague recollections of a Tapir larger than 
himself who had cared for him in his younger days. This sug¬ 
gested the possibility of there being other tapirs in the world be¬ 
sides himself, and again he experienced the feeling of loneliness 
that had urged him to roam abroad in search of friends. But 
those he had met were not of his land, and so after a brief strug¬ 
gle with Fate, he had given up all false notions and returned to 
his life of solitude. These were not pleasant recollections, and 
they must have affected him deeply, for he raised his head and 
gave utterance to a dismal wail, faint at first, but growing grad¬ 
ually to a shrill, piercing cry, which rang over the surface of the 
pond and penetrated far into the forest beyond. Once, twice, 
thrice he repeated his peculiar call, and then relapsed into 
silence. 

For several moments no sound could be heard save the buzz¬ 
ing of insects and voices of twittering birds; then dimly from afar 
came an answering call like an echo of Toto’s own voice. Its ef¬ 
fect upon him was magical. He sprang to his feet, every muscle 
in his body tense, his ears straining to hear more, and as he lis¬ 
tened, a second cry reached his ears, followed by a faint crashing 
of branches as though some animal were making its way through 

177 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


the forest on the other side of the pond. Toto waded hurriedly 
into the shallows and, pausing there knee-deep, again sent his call 
reverberating across the water. When the response came, it 
sounded much nearer, and as he strained his eyes for a better 
view of the opposite shore, a stout, short-legged animal burst into 
view, standing at the water’s edge with head uplifted to repeat 
what seemed to Toto like the answer to his message. The creature 
was a full-grown Tapir, and the answer must have been a favor¬ 
able one, for Toto immediately launched himself deeply and swam 
toward the newcomer, leaving behind him a trail of whirling 
eddies and tossing foam. 

Several days passed and then Toto returned, but he no longer 
swam alone, for there came with him the same Tapir whose ac¬ 
quaintance he had recently made. Somehow he had convinced 
her, Ms newly-acquired mate, that Ms side of the pond was better 
than hers, although she had made considerable ado about not car¬ 
ing at all where he lived. However, his wishes in the matter 
finally prevailed, and Tapir Number Two, now Mrs. Toto, ac¬ 
companied her lord in Ms return journey across the pond. Im¬ 
mediately upon landing she made a most thorough inspection of 
her new quarters, examining the rushes, water-plants and other 
furnishings so minutely that Toto’s nerves were on edge for fear 
she would discover something not to her liking and refuse to stay. 
But Mrs. Toto was now a fixture, had he but known it. Her sur¬ 
vey was only pretense. She, a solitary Tapir, had discovered the 
companion of her choice, and any sort of home was good enough 
with Mm there to share it. As for Toto, his pond-dwelling was 
indeed a paradise. His adventures upon the plains and in the 
forest with horses, camels and pigs were forgotten. His desire 
to roam and the efforts to be a creature other than Mmself became 
the untold secrets of his past. The life of seclusion, once Ms dread, 
was now a joy, for he had a companion to share it with Mm and 
no more was needed to relieve his loneliness. 


178 


INTRODUCTION TO “MAMMUT” 


The American Mastodon was a native of the United States 
in Most Recent (Pleistocene) times although his ancestors orig¬ 
inally hailed from southern Asia and northeastern Africa, sources 
of the world’s elephant supply. He did not live long enough to 
see Europeans land upon our shores although he doubtless en¬ 
countered the first so-called Indians who took possession of 
North and South America long before. In the Most Recent 
(Pleistocene), sometimes called the Quaternary period, mammals 
were at the height of their glory. Horses, camels and antelopes 
swarmed upon the plains; giant ground-sloths, tapirs and deer 
roamed through the forests; while lions and sabre-toothed tigers 
ever hovered about, preying upon the larger animals. At least 
four species of elephants ranged over the greater part of the 
United States: the Imperial, Columbian and Northern Mam¬ 
moths and the American Mastodon. The Mammoths were tall, 
rangey beasts with short, high-peaked heads and widely curving 
tusks. The largest of them was the Imperial Elephant who 
stood about 13 feet 6 inches at the shoulders and had tusks over 
15 feet long. The Columbian and Northern Mammoths were 
smaller beasts of 11 foot and 9 feet 6 inch height respectively. 
The last named animal is the best known of all prehistoric ele¬ 
phants. His body was profusely clad with long hair. 

All of the Mammoths possessed long-crowned, grazing teeth, 
but the Mastodon was a browser, for his low-crowned grinders 
could chew only soft green food. Although of old-fashioned 
type, he had the knack of taking care of himself, for he lived 
and thrived long after most other prehistoric animals had dis- 


179 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


appeared. The Ice Age began early in the Most Recent (Pleis¬ 
tocene) period and the glaciers gliding down from Canada into 
our northern and central states doubtless worked many hard¬ 
ships upon the various animals. The Imperial Mammoth, Sabre 1 
toothed Tiger and many others soon became extinct, but the 
Mastodon held on for several hundred thousands of years until 
after the great ice-fields had melted away. This ice-melting 
epoch probably helped the Mastodon, in that the abundant mois¬ 
ture encouraged growth of soft plants which best suited his low- 
crowned browsing teeth. His race numbering hundreds of thou¬ 
sands ranged over the United States and to-day their bones are 
frequently found in peat-bogs, mire deposits or in the beds of 
dried-up streams. These, the last pages of ancient animal his¬ 
tory, precede our modern historical times. 

Near Minooka, Illinois* about fifty miles southwest of 
Chicago, remains of a dozen mastodons were discovered buried 
at the bottom of a spring. Their bones, together with those of 
the Deer Moose, Elk and Beaver, lay on top of the gravels left 
by the last melting glaciers. Not far distant is Aux Sable Creek. 
While exploring the latter’s bank, I came across a tusk fragment 
protruding from the sandy loam. It was the girth of a man’s 
thigh, and the two. ends of a monster thighbone lay buried beside 
it. That was all. The tusk fragment served as a headstone to 
mark the grave: 

“AN EARLY AMERICAN SETTLER 
Mammut, Last of the Mastodons” 


180 


MAMMUT 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 

I 

The van of the Mastodon Herd had emerged from the water 
and v r as entering the woods which bordered the west bank of the 
Cuyahoga River. Every motion of the great elephants came 
under the careful scrutiny of one of their number—a solitary 
giant standing motionless upon a knoll close to the river bank. 
His trunk extended in a straight line to windward. The air came 
and went through its double-barreled length in deep noisy sniffs, 
as he tested each breeze-puff for sign of danger. Probably no 
creature existed that a Mastodon need worry about; but caution 
was ever an elephant trait; so Burbo followed his natural instinct 
and kept close watch. 

Burbo was the giant, fighting bull, leader of the Herd. The 
top of his shoulder-hump lacked several inches of rising ten feet 
above the knoll on which he stood. Ten feet was not so remark¬ 
able, and yet Burbo was a plant in bulk, not rangy and slab- 
sided like a mammoth, but a bulldog type with thick-set body, 
broad hips and legs like tree-stumps. His stout tusks, seven feet 
of length in the clear, described three or more curves of ever- 
changing plane, sweeping widely apart in their middles and 
finally coming together at their polished tips. 

Burbo was not an expert at figures, but as he watched his fol¬ 
lowers emerging from the river, he could see that their numbers 
were few and dwindling fast. Only since the full moon had the 
last bull succumbed to an old injury. Burbo could take some 


181 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


selfish satisfaction in that, for he had peculiar notions about any 
animal that had aspired and might again aspire to lead the herd. 

But now Hasta, too, had disappeared. She was one of the 
finest cows and could be ill spared. Burbo ground his teat- 
crowned teeth with rage at his own helplessness. It was his style 
of teeth that had wrought such havoc among his people. They 
were the main reason why the great Mastodon race which once 
roamed over the country by hundreds of thousands, now num¬ 
bered less than forty individuals. They could chop and crush 
hut not grind; therefore their owners could not eat dry grass, 
hut must depend upon softer and greener food, such as plants, 
tender shoots or the inner bark of trees. Such food was not of 
the concentrated variety. A single Mastodons requirements 
were enormous; a herd’s colossal. In times past, the melting of 
the glaciers had flooded the country and established conditions 
favorable to the growth of such vegetation as suited Mastodon 
taste and development. However, the lakes and marshes had 
now dried up, thereby greatly diminishing the supply of green 
food suitable for teat-crowned teeth. The climate changed, too— 
for the worse, and it was not long before the Mastodon found 
himself in a had way. 

It was the passing of a once mighty race. One by one the old 
animals dropped off. No recruits were available to restore the 
rapidly thinning ranks. Thirty years had elapsed since the 
Herd saw its last new-horn calf. That calf was Burbo, now 
leader, as well as the youngest of the Herd, and its sole surviving 
male. The big hull had learned too much in his thirty years of 
life not to understand that there must soon he an end as he stood 
upon the knoll watching over his charges. He might not fight 
Fate, hut he could at least take good care of the few Mastodons 
that remained. One by one they emerged from the water. Those 


182 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


in the lead had already climbed the bank and were smashing their 
way through the underwood. Here a tree-top was pulled half 
over until it arched like a how, then flew back with the force of a 
catapult, as a python-like trunk stripped it of its leaves. There 
the foliage was thrust violently aside before a great tusked head 
and brown hairy back following close behind it. Others of the 
huge beasts trailed after, rearing up out of the water and splash¬ 
ing their way ashore. And still Burbo watched and counted 
them. He who knew nothing of figures, counted them in his own 
way to the very last one who yet swam deeply with only her trunk 
tip and forehead appearing above the surface of the stream. 

Thirty-seven; it had been thirty-eight before Hasta had dis¬ 
appeared. Burbo sighed deeply. It had been a hundred several 
seasons ago on the banks of the Mohawk, and now only thirty- 
seven ; cows every one of them, no bulls and not a single calf. 

The last of the Herd emerged, with the water dripping from 
its vast body in showers. Burbo was preparing to descend the 
knoll and join his comrades when his sharp ears caught the dis¬ 
tant snapping of branches. Some large animal was forcing its 
way through the forest on the far side of the river. The bull 
leader became all attention, straining his eyes to pierce the heavy 
morning mist which the sun had not yet cleared. 

His eyesight was poor. Mastodons depended almost entirely 
upon their ears and noses for information; but he could dimly 
discern a huge figure which had just emerged from the woods and 
was standing at the water’s edge. The unknown’s forefeet were 
in the water. Two curved streaks flashed and a shrill trumpet- 
call echoed and re-echoed across the stream. 

A Mastodon! Burbo emitted an astonished bellow. It could 
not be possible, and yet, work, worry and lack of nourishment had 
taxed his brain heavily. He might have miscounted. His health 

183 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

was not of the best these days. Yes, he must have miscounted— 
but it was the first time. 

His head drooped; he looked at the ground. It suddenly 
dawned upon him that he was growing old. A thirty-year-old 
mastodon, one who should have been in his prime, and yet he had 
aged rapidly, the proof of which was that he had miscounted. 
For such a trivial thing, it affected him terribly. He appeared 
like one crushed beneath some great calamity. 

Meanwhile the uncounted Mastodon had entered the river and 
was swimming rapidly across. Had Burbo looked up he would 
have observed that the late arrival was making much work out of 
that easy journey across the water—much pushing and pulling 
and apparently useless motions such as one might expend in tow¬ 
ing an inert burden. However, he paid no attention, for he was 
brooding over his frightful mistake—the fact that he had mis¬ 
counted. It was only when the newcomer splashed shoreward 
through the shallows that he raised his head and gazed listlessly 
in that direction. A cow Mastodon was disappearing among the 
trees. Burbo gasped. What was that small mass trotting on 
four twinkling legs beside her? His eyes were seeing things that 
could not be. It was worse than old age; he must be going mad. 

At that moment a violent uproar arose in the woods, sud¬ 
denly and without the slightest warning, like the bursting of a 
bomb. The air resounded with a chorus of squeals, grunts and 
bellows and the crashing of broken branches. 

What was wrong? Burbo heard the tramp of many feet, the 
thump, thump of thick sole-pads or soft ground. Here and there 
he caught glimpses of flashing ivory and broad backs battering 
their way among the trees. Something had frightened the Herd. 
With a bound he abandoned his post of duty and charged down 
into the woods. 


184 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


A stampede? No; rather a wild celebration. There was no 
vestige of fear in any of those squeals and other elephant clatter, 
nor did there appear a single sign of panic in any one of the huge 
cow tuskers that pushed and pulled those nearest her. The Herd 
was massed in a solid ring with every one of the huge beasts 
straining to reach the center. Tremendous v r as the commotion 
they made. The whole Mastodon world seemed to have gone mad. 

It was some time before Burbo could secure the recognition 
due him, so great was the crush and excitement. He charged and 
squealed and bellowed and it v T as only after several of the cows 
had the breath nearly knocked out of them that they wmuld pay 
him the slightest attention. Voices were raised one after another, 
as the rearmost animals bellow r ed at those in front of them to 
stand back and make room: 

“A-vee, a-vee! Clear a path. Here comes the master to look 
upon his own.” 

Those in front of the big hull crowded hard to the right and 
left, thus cleaving a narrow lane through the surging mass. Burbo 
smashed his way through, leaving many a bumped head and 
bruised body behind him. In a few moments he was standing 
within a ring of tossing trunks and uplifted ivory. A forest of 
tusks raised skyward like curved sabres, seemed to flash the mes¬ 
sage: “Hail to the New-horn! Long live the King!” 

Burho’s heart leaped almost to his throat. He had not mis¬ 
counted. Hasta stood before him; Hasta his favorite and Queen 
of the Herd. The seemingly impossible had occurred; a straggler 
had returned. The hull leader had counted thirty-seven, hut he 
had not erred even though the correct number was thirty-eight. 
It was enough to thrill any mastodon with joy. The Herd re¬ 
cently thirty-seven had now increased its number by one. Even 
one was an occasion for general rejoicing, signifying, as it did, a 

185 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


halt in the long-continued shrinkage. Burbo fairly danced with 
delight as the truth dawned upon him. Only a few moments ago 
the census was thirty-seven; and now most unexpectedly it had 
risen to thirty-eight. 

“Oomp, oomp,” grunted a small voice. Burbo looked down. 
His eyes stuck out like plums as he stared and stared as much as 
to say: 

“Thirty-seven, thirty-eight? Did I hear someone say thirty- 
nine? 

Yes, someone did say thirty-nine, although he who said it was 
hardly old enough to say much of anything. There, huddled 
beneath the Queen Hasta’s great chest and apparently much con¬ 
cerned at the commotion going on about him, was a vision border¬ 
ing upon the miraculous—a Baby Mastodon! He was a mere 
atom—viewed from an elephant’s standpoint—a tiny two-hun¬ 
dred pounder as fat as butter. His feet were like puddings with 
raisin toes sticking out of them. With his low forehead and 
short trunk he resembled a large tapir with a very long nose. 

The tide had turned at last. The stork had flown over the 
Herd and it was to be hoped that henceforth he would many times 
repeat his glorious performance. Never had the Mastodons cele¬ 
brated such a joyous occasion, and all because of the newly bom 
baby Mastodon. 

“He is mine, all mine,” bellowed the proud mother. “May I 
wither and blow away if any harm comes to him. It is a long, 
long time since our herd saw its last calf; I have forgotten how 
long. Does anyone remember?” 

“The last calf?” muttered Burbo. His voice trembled as he 
gazed at his first and only child. “Yes, I remember. I was the 
last, and it was indeed very long ago.” 

At the sound of Burbo’s voice the youngster looked at him 


186 



THE NEW ARRIVAL 











































THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


wonderingly out of his small beady eyes. The big bull shook like 
a leaf as with a low grunt, his tiny son waddled from his refuge 
beneath the Queen Mother and came forward cautiously, and all 
prepared at an instant’s notice to beat a hasty retreat. When 
beneath his sire’s mighty head, he stopped and raised his stubby 
trunk. Burbo bent low. His great tusks encircled the infant’s 
body in a halo of gleaming ivory. His trunk twined about the 
tiny neck like the coil of a monster serpent. 

“I was the last,” he said in a voice so low that few could hear. 
“Until you came I was the last. May you be but one of many 
calves—Mammut, first of the new race of Mastodons.” 

II 

Mammut began life under what seemed to him ideal circum¬ 
stances. He was welcome. Never was a newly-born calf more 
so. He had no end of friends and food, too. His mother always 
kept an ample supply of milk on hand, and he had but to go to 
her and get it. Surrounded by friends and with plenty to eat, he 
became the healthiest and happiest of youngsters. He had no 
real sorrows, although at times, after being subjected to a bit of 
maternal discipline, it appeared to him as though the whole world 
had turned against him. However, such periods of black gloom 
did not last long, once the microbe of childish contrariness was 
spanked out of his system. 

The Herd now took a new lease on life, a change due entirely 
to the arrival of the baby Mastodon; partly because of his cheerful 
nature, but more particularly because of the hope his advent in¬ 
spired in the revival of the Mastodon race. Past hardships were 
forgotten in the thought of brighter days to come. When Burbo 
trumpeted the signal to move on, all responded with light hearts, 


188 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


Mammut included. He took his place in the ranks, trotting close 
to the Queen Mother's side to avoid being trampled upon by the 
great feet of his elders. 

Near the headwaters of the Huron and Sandusky Rivers 
the Mastodons came upon what might have been considered as a 
veritable storehouse of green food suitable for teat-crowned teeth. 
It would have more than sufficed for any except a herd of Masto¬ 
dons; but experience had taught these great animals what enor¬ 
mous amounts of fodder were necessary to supply their wants. 
A storehouse it was; and yet no more than a temporary relief. 
Soon the fodder would become exhausted and they must pass 
on. However, they need not worry over the present. There was 
an abundance to satisfy their pressing needs, so they halted and 
proceeded to enjoy the good things while they lasted. 

Animals of all kinds were to be found there; and in such a 
well-wooded and well-watered region, they might have been ex¬ 
pected. By far the most abundant were the White-tailed Deer. 
These timid dainty creatures were at first much alarmed at sight 
of the huge, tusked giants suddenly come amongst them. They 
would run away with the swiftness of the wind whenever they 
saw a brown hairy back or heard the noise made by a huge ele¬ 
phant crashing its way through the trees. However, a brief ac¬ 
quaintance changed all this. Not once did a Mastodon offer to 
harm a deer. The White-tails plucked up courage. These 
mighty animals with horns growing from their mouths, attended 
strictly to their own affairs and were a peaceable lot after all. 
More than that: for with their appearance the cougars, wolves 
and bobcats made themselves scarce. The White-tails found 
the woods entirely cleared of their natural enemies. They were 
not long in learning that the retreat of the flesh-eaters to parts 
unknown was due entirely to their fear of the huge strangers. 


189 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

Deer and Mastodon soon lived, together on the best of terms. 
They crossed and recrossed each other’s trails and everything went 
along smoothly for the time being. 

The White-tails impressed Mammut deeply. They were so 
dainty, so animated and so rapid in their motions. He never 
tired of watching them. The speed they displayed was enough 
to take his breath away. It seemed incredible that animals could 
run so fast. There were raccoons and rabbits and woodchucks 
and many other interesting creatures, too, but most of them were 
hopelessly unsociable and try as he would, Mammut could never 
establish even the basis of a formal speaking acquaintance with 
them. Raccoons roamed abroad only at night when Mastodons 
and most other animals were taking their rest; rabbits were for¬ 
ever hopping away if one even looked at them; and woodchucks, 
being too fat and lazy to run, merely rolled into their burrows 
and disappeared. 

There were other little black beasts with white-striped bodies 
and bushy tails that neither ran away nor hid themselves when 
Mammut sought to establish friendly relations with them. They 
were his first experience with animals that rarely fought or fled 
but had the most unhappy faculty of making themselves abso¬ 
lutely unbearable nuisances. To look at a skunk was a pleasure, 
so care-free and deliberate were Iris actions; but to reallv know 
him intimately, was to smell him, particularly when he put him¬ 
self in the best smelling condition. Mammut’s first attempt at 
making friends with a skunk was his last. The little waddling 
beast turned his perfumery loose and the young Mastodon almost 
collapsed. Never had his nose experienced such a frightful odor. 
It was the kind that could easily make room for itself in any 
crowd. It was too much for Mammut, so away he ran. 

That was not all. Some of the odor ran with him and stayed 

190 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


with him. The Herd, even his fond mother, noticed it and for 
several days all shunned the young Mastodon. He could not 
understand it. There he was, ready to be on friendly terms with 
any and everybody and yet every animal he came in contact with 
spurned him. Even the Red Squirrel made sport of him as he sat 
high and safe upon an overhanging limb delivering himself of 
many unkind and sarcastic remarks as Mammut passed beneath. 

It would seem that the young Mastodon could expect nothing 
from any hut the White-tails; but even with them he failed, even 
after the skunk-odor had left him. Whenever he came upon the 
fawns frisking about in the open spaces among the trees, there 
was a general stoppage of activity. None would frolic while he 
was present; none would play with him The way all animals 
held aloof perplexed him. He could not understand, having yet 
to learn that creatures of one species never became intimate with 
those of another species. It was one of Nature’s rules. It was 
as though her voice had whispered from the clouds: “Each to his 
kind, little Mastodon. So far and no farther. Her word was 
final; the gap yawned wide and so Mammut was compelled to 
play alone. 

This was the only cloud in the youngster’s life. He was 
denied what all healthy children ever long for—playmates. The 
lack of them cast a shadow over what might otherwise have been 
an ideal existence. And now, with his sense of isolation, came an 
understanding of that which filled every Mastodon mind. What 
had become of all the baby elephants? Were there any? He 
wanted one to play with so badly. He would ask his mother 
about it. She was a wonderful mother and would do anything 
he wanted if he but asked. 

But strange to say, Hasta could not help him find a baby 
Mastodon to play 'with. She could not explain why. It seemed 


191 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


to Mammut a simple request; but his mother appeared much 
grieved at the mere suggestion. It pained her even to discuss 
the subject. It was with a heart almost too full for words that 
she confessed her inability to find her small son what he most 
wanted. Mammut must be patient and wait. She could not 
grant his wish just now; but the time might soon come when the 
Herd would have another baby Mastodon. 

Mammut was satisfied. The voungster’s faith in his mother 
was supreme. He believed everything she told him. Yes, he 
would be patient and wait; and when another babj^ mastodon did 
come, he would have such fun with it. He began to experience a 
new sensation—hope; anticipated pleasure which was delightful, 
although tantalizing. Each morning he waddled about among 
the Herd, inquiring of each and every animal if a baby mastodon 
had yet arrived. Gloomy were the head-shakes. No, a little 
Mastodon had not yet appeared. Would one come tomorrow? 
Perhaps; nobody knew; and Mammut would finally go away 
disappointed but ever hopeful of what the morrow might bring. 
Day after day, he repeated this performance; but it was always 
“perhaps” and “tomorrow” until finally he gave up his question¬ 
ing and turned his childish mind to matters of greater promise. 

Denied the companionship of other than his Mastodon elders, 
he got to poking about by himself. He had learned much about 
animals but Iris education was scarcely begun. There were many 
things that a youngster must know. His mother could not for¬ 
ever keep an eye on him and at times he must look to his own 
welfare. 

One afternoon he strayed from the Herd, farther than he 
had ever dared to venture. It was rather terrifying at first, this 
tramping alone through the woods, but it did not take him long 
to get used to it. The few animals he met with, stepped aside 

192 



MAMMUT WAS COMPELLED TO PLAY ALONE 


















STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


and gave him a clear path. Such actions did not indicate a spirit 
of friendliness but they showed that even a baby Mastodon was 
worthy of respect. The realization of this gave him confidence 
in himself. He plodded briskly along battering his way among 
the small saplings and through patches of thick underbrush just 
as he had seen his elders do. Finally he rammed a young oak 
that was too big for him. Back he bounced like a rubber ball. 
That made him so angry he coiled his trunk about it and tried 
vainly to uproot it. He was not big and strong enough to do 
things like that just yet but the fact that his spirit prompted him 
to try was a commendable sign. It showed that he was ambitious 
and eager to learn. 

On he trotted through the woods. Everything was new and 
entertaining: the trees with their gnarled limbs, the occasional 
open spaces with green grass below and blue sky above, the big 
boulders scattered here and there, lying half-buried in the ground; 
these and other things in endless number and variety confronted 
Mammut at every turn. 

A stream suddenly appeared before him. The young Masto¬ 
don’s journey through the woods had made him warm. The 
water looked cool and inviting. He slid down the bank and 
waded in. The sun shone brightly overhead. Mammut dipped 
his trunk in the water and sucked it full. He was about to raise 
it high above his head and treat himself to a shower-bath like a 
real grown-up when he saw something that nearly took his breath 
away. There directly under him stood a baby Mastodon; rather 
it lay upon its back peering up at him from the stream’s muddy 
bed. His tomorrow had arrived. Here was a playmate, a Mas¬ 
todon of his own age. 

Mammut squealed and danced with joy. The surface of the 
stream became ruffled and his new-found playmate disappeared. 


194 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODOXS 


Where had he gone? The y*oung Mastodon hunted anxiously 
but nothing was to be seen in the disturbed and muddied water. 
He waded out of it and searched the bank. As he moved along 
it, suddenly a low voice hissed angrily: “Stand back, big beast, or 
I strike! You are coming too close with your heavy feet.” 

Mammut looked at the muddy ground before him. There sat 
Cistra the “Water-moccasin.'’ Her body was coiled, her head 
was raised and her two long poison fangs were pointed threaten¬ 
ingly at the small disturber. 

Mammut knew absolutely nothing about snakes; and yet a 
subdued voice within him warned that it was a thing best left 
alone. However, his curiosity got the better of him. He yielded 
to temptation and extended his trunk. 

Cistra’s head and fangs shot forward. Mammut felt a sharp 
pain near the tip of his nose and was frightened almost to death. 
With a loud squeal, he jumped back just as the Water-moccasin 
recoiled herself and made ready for another strike. However, 
one was enough. The youngster was up the bank and away as 
fast as he could go. 

Mammut was terrified. He went flying through the woods 
squealing for his mother, and complaining loudly* that he had 
been bitten by* a big worm. Fortunately" for him, his exploring 
trip to the stream, although a momentous affair in his y*oung life, 
had not been a very* extended one. He had strayed but a short 
distance. Hasta heard the squeals and hurried to the rescue. 

In a moment the two were united. Mammut huddled close 
to his mother and shivered. His body r was very* cold and his legs 
felt shaky* at the knees. A fit of dizziness made everything go 
round and round before his ey*es; and meanwhile he moaned dis¬ 
mally". 

The Queen Mother was greatly distressed. Some dire 


195 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


calamity had befallen her young son. She could not imagine 
what it was. While she stood by, anxious to help but not know¬ 
ing what to do, Mammut suddenly collapsed and fell sprawling 
to the ground. His nose began to swell. Hasta saw it growing 
larger. A mastodon’s trunk was his tenderest and most vulner¬ 
able spot. Probably the youngster had poked his trunk into a 
nest of hornets and they had stung him for his pains: and yet for 
a mere hornet’s sting his condition appeared extremely alarming. 

Mammut now lay as one dead; unconscious and scarcely 
breathing. His body was as cold as ice. Hasta trumpeted fran¬ 
tically for help and soon the Herd were gathered about her. 
None understood the young invalid’s strange malady. None 
could help him. In an agony of dread, Hasta kneeled over the 
small body and covered it with her own to keep it warm. 

This treatment helped—ever so little, hut it was enough 
to keep Mammut’s blood circulating and enabled him to hold on 
to the little life that remained. The sun went down. Night came 
and still Hasta crouched over her baby. There was no sleep for 
anyone. The Mastodons, one and all, tramped about the mother 
and her stricken son, frequentlv voicing their uneasiness with 
shrill trumpetings. Mammut lay still and cold as death; the moon 
climbed slowly into the sky; Hasta yet crouched over the young 
Mastodon and still no change. She almost despaired. It seemed 
as though the treasure which had been hers for so short a time, 
would soon be lost forever. 

But Mammut yet breathed, his heart fluttered and he clung 
to life, unconsciously battling against the deadly serpent venom 
which clogged his veins. It was past midnight when the Queen 
Mother, still crouching over him, hoping against hope, felt the 
tiny body beneath her quickening with restored circulation and 
returning warmth. Mammut’s sides heaved; he groaned. He 


196 




SUDDENLY A LOW VOICE HISSED ANGRILY 













STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


even tried to raise his head but the effort was too much for him 
and he gave it up. The tide had turned at last. Hasta almost 
smothered the young invalid, so great was her joy. But Mam- 
mut was feeling much better now and began to protest loudly at 
being so completely buried. Hasta arose and Mammut tried to 
arise with her. This he could not do all by himself but with his 
mother’s help, he finally managed to stagger to his feet. 

The Herd rejoiced. It was nearly morning now and the 
whole night had passed with scarcely a moment’s relief from the 
profound anxiety all had felt. It had been a terrible strain, 
watching the pride and joy of the Herd, hoping for the best, but 
fearing that he could not survive. 

Mammut was out of danger now, although he was still a 
very sick little elephant. His head ached as though it w r ould 
burst and he felt very weak and w r obbly. He soon tired and was 
obliged to lie down again; but this time it was to secure a bit of 
refreshing sleep. The giant Burbo came forward and peered 
anxiously into the youngster’s face. He stroked the small body 
with his trunk. Mammut merely rested. Burbo breathed a deep 
sigh of relief. He was turning aw r ay treading as softly as pos¬ 
sible so as not to awake the sleeping infant, when the leaves 
rustled, the bushes parted and a slim figure emerged and stood 
facing him. It was one of the Deer-people, a buck, the oldest 
and wisest of the White-tailed Stags. 


Ill 

The leaders of the WEite-tails and of the Mastodons faced each 
other. 

“I come from my people with a message,” said the buck. 


198 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODOXS 


“Your herd has done us great harm. We wish them to leave.” 

“H arm? What have they done?” demanded the surprised 
Burbo. 

“Our feeding-grounds are ruined,” the other replied bitterly. 
“You Mastodons are so wasteful. You trample dow T n and destroy 
much more than you eat; and it is worry enough for us to see how 
much it takes to fill your big stomachs.” 

“The bigger the stomach, the bigger the worry,” Burbo re¬ 
torted. “We mastodons have our troubles too.” 

“But that does not help us,” said the buck. “We were here 
first, happy and contented until you came. There will be nothing 
left for either of us unless you go aw r ay.” 

The bull leader pondered deeply. Yes, it was all true enough. 
His people were indeed wasteful eaters. Their huge feet 
destroyed far more than went into their mouths. Furthermore, 
the feeling had been growing upon him for several days that the 
time w r as near at hand when the Herd must soon be seeking new 
fields. Their present food-supply was fast becoming exhausted. 
He had no quarrel with the White-tails. Deer and Mastodon 
had gotten along remarkably well together. Yes, he could do as 
asked and it would be a good thing all around. 

“We will leave today,” he announced briefly; wiiereupon the 
buck w r ent his way rejoicing. 

Word v r as soon passed among the Herd that the time for 
departure had arrived. All made ready and w r aited for Burbo 
to give the signal, or rather they w T aited for Mammut to aw T aken. 
Xone thought of deserting the young Mastodon, so they all stood 
together sw r aying from side to side, blowing dust on their backs 
and doing various other things to pass the time. 

Mammut aw r oke at last, rested and recovered although w^eak 
and hungry. However, a warm drink of milk worked winders 


199 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


and after walking about a few steps to ease his cramped muscles, 
he was in condition to proceed. 

The moment of departure was at hand. Burbo took his place 
in the lead and the march began. From the cover of the woods, 
the Deer-people were interested spectators of the sudden leave- 
taking of their now unwelcome guests. White-tailed bucks, does 
and fawns concealed in the distance behind every bush and tree, 
looked wonderingly on. They saw a wave of great brown backs 
and tossing trunks, capped with gleaming ivory, rolling away 
from them to the west. The Mastodons marched off without once 
turning to look behind them and the land of the Huron and 
Sandusky saw them no more. 

Mammut trotted close to his mother’s side. He had not yet 
fully regained his strength and it was hard for him to keep up 
with the Herd. Every one of their big steps covered as much 
ground as did his three; and so his legs had to twinkle three times 
to their one in order to hold his place in the line of inarch. He 
puffed and grunted; the foam gathered upon his flanks and his 
heart beat like a trip-hammer. Each of his pudgy feet seemed 
to have a big stone tied to it. He wished that his people would 
only stop a few moments or slow up and thus give him a chance 
to catch his breath; but still they lumbered on. 

Mammut began to falter. He uttered no complaint but he 
was dreadfully tired and try as he would, his legs could not be 
made to move fast enough. He dropped back; and then—softly 
and from some mysterious source a huge trunk curled down and 
around his body beneath the armpits; another pressed gently 
upon his rump. The stones dropped from his feet. Half of his 
body—the heaviest half—seemed to be floating through space. 
The lighter half was being propelled by that which pressed upon 
his rear. Gradually he regained his wind; his heart-beats sank 


200 



MAMMUT IS HELPED UPON THE MARCH 


















































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


to normal; and he found time to learn what had happened to 
effect this welcome change. Hasta’s trunk wound about his body, 
was pulling him forward, while another of the Herd was pushing 
him from behind. 

With such help, Mammut was enabled to keep up. However, 
he was glad enough to rest when the Herd made a short stop for 
drink and refreshment. Gradually his wind improved, his 
muscles toughened and it was not many days before he could do 
his part well and with little assistance. For weeks, the Masto¬ 
dons kept on the move through western Ohio, veering occasionally 
to the north or south, but in general, heading toward the land of 
the setting sun. Wherever food abounded, they halted, only to 
move on again when the supply was exhausted. Dry unforested 
regions were crossed at top speed. Hard, dry grass was of no 
more use to these teat-toothed elephants than salt-water is to a 
ship-wrecked sailor. None of the Herd could chew it, so they 
were obliged to hurry on or starve. 

This roving life suited Mammut perfectly. It meant that he 
was hearing and smelling something new with every step he 
took. It was all so bewildering and interesting. He loved 
traveling from place to place; and then to cap the climax of his 
nomadic life, he was treated to a journey over and through the 
water. 

The Mastodons traversed a broad forested region and 
emerged upon the hank of a broad river which barred their way. 
Here they stopped to rest and cool off, for these great animals 
were wise enough to know the danger of attempting a long swim 
without due preparation. In the meantime, Burbo devoted his 
attention to the opposite hank, sniffing it carefully at long range. 
This was to guard against surprise attack by panthers or wolves 
who might be lurking there. Such enemies, which were ordinarily 

202 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


to be scorned, might easily prove formidable to even a Mastodon 
after a long enervating swim and a landing in a more or less 
exhausted condition. 

Mammut saw' the river and it interested him greatly. He 
noticed that the onward march was halted and wondered what 
w r ould happen next. Burbo’s actions impressed him. He saw no 
reason for it all; but minds wiser than his were there to decide, 
so he waited with the others. Then came the order to advance, 
when the bull leader trumpeted shrilly and waded into the water. 
The Herd followed. Hasta and Mammut W'ere among the last 
with several cows bringing up the rear. 

Mammut squealed with delight as the many huge feet 
splashed the water over his body in showers. He loved to wade. 
He kicked his hardest to make as much commotion as the others 
did. The river bottom gradually fell away from beneath his feet. 
The water which had barelv reached to his wrists and ankles now 
rose to above his elbow's. A few^ more steps and it covered the 
low'er half of his body. Some w'ashed into his mouth and dow T n 
his throat. He coughed, shut his mouth and breathed through his 
long nose, holding the tip aloft as the others about him were 
doing. 

It was all very interesting and the w'ater w'as delightfully re¬ 
freshing but he w^as becoming just a little frightened and washing 
that the river bottom would stop slipping away from under him. 
He, for one, w T as walling to turn around and go back to w r here he 
came from; and just w'hen he w r as wondering how he could get 
himself out of the mess he had stumbled into, dowm he went, head 
and all. One terrified squeal; then the w'ater entered his mouth 
and choked him. His legs thrashed like piston rods as they 
sought vainly for support. At this critical moment Hasta’s trunk 

203 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


hovered before his eyes. Manumit clutched it as a drowning man 
clutches at a straw and still his legs worked frantically. 

Water could be walked on, he soon discovered; that is, if he 
walked fast. Even though there was nothing solid beneath him, 
the motion of his legs kept him afloat. It was his mother, of 
course, that made this possible. Her trunk prevented his sink¬ 
ing. He did not realize at first that the life-preserver which he 
clutched so tightly had gradually relaxed and that he was keeping 
afloat almost entirely by his own efforts. Hasta’s trunk sup¬ 
ported scarcely any of his weight. He put on more steam and 
went plowing through the water like a tiny tug-boat. To his 
intense delight and astonishment, it suddenly dawned upon him 
that it was not his mother but himself who produced this marvel¬ 
ous result. He was running through the water—swimming, 
some call it—and he was doing it all alone. 

This was the young mastodon’s first swimming-lesson and he 
was a swimmer before he had reached mid-stream. Two-thirds 
of the way across and he found time to look about and see what 
the others were doing. He was in the midst of a flotilla of brown, 
hairy foreheads, before each of which a trunk-tip projected above 
the water like the top of a periscope. Three-fourths of the jour¬ 
ney and he was swimming like mad to beat those in front of him 
and take the lead. Chug, chug, chug; then he stubbed his toes on 
a sunken snag and was walking once more on the river bottom; 
up, up this time instead of down. 

The voyage was ended; and such fun it had been. Never had 
Mammut so enjoyed himself. He was splashing his hardest to 
overtake his father and be the first one ashore when something 
clutched liis tail and nearly pulled it out by the roots. It was his 
mother who thus restrained him. Her son was growing over¬ 
bold. Burbo must be the first to land and prepare the way. 


204 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODOXS 


Those who thought differently needed a taste of stern discipline. 

Meanwhile the bull leader led the way up the slippery bank, 
choosing an elevated position to halt and keep close watch until 
every member of the Herd was gathered about him. It did not 
dawn upon Mammut that Burbo, not his mother, was the master 
of the Herd, until the big hull took his young son in hand and 
taught him the respect due himself, the Herd’s acknowledged 
leader. 

Mammut was too young to rebel against this new power over 
him; hut Burbo saw that in time he would have a vigorous young 
male to deal with. He, a hull leader past his prime, could not 
forever lead and the day was coming when he must yield his 
place to the rising generation. 

However, Mammut had no thought about assuming any of 
life’s responsibilities; at least until he was weaned. This last- 
named period, however, was the beginning of a marked change 
in his young life. The suckling calf became a vegetable-eater 
and was obliged to hunt for and find his own food. From then 
on he fared no better than the grown-ups. He learned what it 
meant to feel the real pinch of hunger, the rigors of extreme heat 
and cold, the hostility of flesh-eating animals and various other 
discomforts. He experienced his first fear of the elements; the 
thunder rumbling in the sky, lightning flashes and strong winds 
that bowed the tallest trees. These and other trials, he faced as 
best he could, gaining strength and courage with bitter experi¬ 
ence. He lost his childish ways rapidly, for now he was but a 
Mastodon struggling to exist in an environment and in a climate 
unsuitable to his kind. He began to see more of the dark side of 
existence and less of its joys. As he matured, gradually he lost 
all feeling of dependence upon his mother. He even began to 


205 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

feel a sense of responsibility concerning her welfare and the wel¬ 
fare of the Herd. 

He shed the last of his baby teeth. One after another, they 
were discarded, three from the front of each jaw. New and 
permanent ones rolled up and forward from behind to replace 
them, in the manner peculiar to all elephants. His tusks 
thickened and lengthened. They were nothing more than his two 
upper incisor teeth in whose sockets were the means for unlimited 
growth. They were like beaver teeth, only growing forward and 
out of his mouth instead of back into it. A lazy Mastodon, like 
a lazy beaver, was one that neglected the care of his teeth. Tusks 
were meant to be used constantly and thus kept worn down, for 
they grew fast like finger-nails and nothing but wear could keep 
them from curling about so grotesquely as to become absolutely 
useless in time. 

At the age of six, Mammut began to look upon his tusks as 
matters of prime importance. They would take care of him, pro¬ 
vided he took care of them; that is, if he used and kept them worn 
down to proper length. This he did by giving them daily exer¬ 
cise; uprooting small trees and ploughing deep furrows in the 
ground. With his continued digging, he became a “straight- 
tusk,” for his ivory weapons were prevented from attaining great 
curvature and were ever sharp-pointed and directed forward like 
sabres. 

The Herd continued to look upon Mammut as a baby even 
after he attained his eighth year. Panthers and wolves often 
cast longing eyes upon the youngster. A full-grown Mastodon 
was too large for them to manage; but a half-grown calf was a 
different matter. Hasta and the other animals realized this and 
guarded the youngster zealously. Rarely would they permit him 
to leave their, sight. It was not long before Mammut became 


206 



THE YOUNG MASTODON DREW NEARER SNIFFLING 

THE AIR. 







































































































THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 

conscious of this restraint. He chafed under it and finally re¬ 
belled. One day when the woods rang with the familiar cat- 
screech, he slipped away unnoticed and hurried through the woods 
in the direction of the sound. 

Pam the Cougar, crouched full length upon a low hanging 
branch, heard the snapping of twigs. A few moments later, a 
round figure with pillar legs appeared. It was the young Masto¬ 
don coming toward him and alone. Pam’s green eyes glistened; 
his jaws dripped eager expectancy. Mammut was in his power 
at last. He crouched motionless and waited. 

The young mastodon drew nearer, sniffing the air and keep¬ 
ing close watch about him. His nose told him that he of the 
screeching voice was close at hand. Unfortunately he did not 
think to look up at the overhanging branch as he passed beneath 
it. 

Suddenly an unearthly scream rang out. Before Mammut 
could collect his startled wits, a tawny body descended upon him. 
The next moment, he was in the clutches of a snarling cougar 
that had fastened itself upon his forehead. The youngster 
squealed with fear at the suddenness of it all; then a spasm of 
rage seized him as he felt the big cat’s claws piercing his tender 
trunk. He shook the fury that tormented him, as a terrier shakes 
a rat. Pam lost his hold and fell heavily to the ground. Mam¬ 
mut kneeled and thrust. It w^as the right idea; but in his eager¬ 
ness, he misjudged. Both tusks sank deeply into the ground, 
missing the cougar by inches. Before he could wrench them 
free, Pam wriggled out of danger and beat a hasty retreat, 
thankful to have escaped with no worse damage than a few 
broken ribs. 

Pam lost his appetite for Mastodon veal. The woods often 
rang with his screeching but he invariably held his tongue when- 


207 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


ever Mammut appeared to answer the challenge, only to unloose 
it once more when the young bull was gone. That screeching 
irritated Mammut beyond measure. He wished that his enemy 
would either fight or keep quiet. 

The Mastodons entered the forest of Minster. Here the 
wolves began to grow troublesome, for the hunting had grown 
poor and a herd of elephants meant an abundance of food. The 
wolves followed persistently, keeping well back in the daytime, 
but coming closer under cover of night. When all was dark and 
the Herd would have rested, they were treated to an unearthly 
chorus of howls and snarls as their tormentors glided about them 
among the trees. 

These concerts greatly disturbed the Mastodons. There 
seemed no way of dealing with enemies that chose the night time 
for their activities and used only guerilla methods of warfare. * 
The wolves were too wise to dash blindly upon a herd of Masto¬ 
dons. Their way was to spring out, a few at a time, snap at a 
leg or trunk and then rush to cover again. It was a wearing 
process that gave the Herd much worry and little rest. It ter¬ 
rified Mammut at first hut as he became aware that many of these 
insults were directed at his own person, his fear turned to rage. 
One night when the Pack was feeling overbold, he heard them 
howling to each other: “If only that fat little calf would come out 
from behind the others, what a feast w r e would have.” 

Mammut squealed with rage. Before anyone could stop 
him, he squirmed through the hedge of pillar-legs around him 
and was on the outside of the Herd, stamping his feet and bellow¬ 
ing at the top of Iris lungs: 

“Why don’t you come out yourselves? A-vee! Shame on 
you to he afraid of a baby Mastodon!” 

Pandemonium broke loose. The Wolf Pack accepted the 


208 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 

challenge and rushed upon him, howling and snarling like fury. 
To their din were added the squeals and bellows of the Herd as 
they rushed madly about in the darkness in a frantic effort to put 
themselves between Mammut and the tempest he had stirred up. 
The youngster was now beside himself. Those who would have 
helped him, he butted out of his way. He dashed headlong into 
the mass of wolves; charging, backing, turning and trampling 
them underfoot. He was a steam-roller run wild. The uproar 
became deafening: bellows, squeals, howls and yelps, with the 
yelps fast increasing in volume as one after another the wolves 
fell beneath the young Mastodon’s flying feet. The fierce brutes 
became demoralized; they wavered. It was soon evervone for 
himself. The Pack finally scattered to the four winds, leaving 
Mammut in complete possession of the field. The Herd rested 
well the balance of that night. Their sleep was unbroken the 
next, and the next and many nights after. That last night-scrim¬ 
mage must have discouraged the Wolf Pack of Minster, for they 
troubled the Mastodons no more. 

This episode opened the Herd’s eyes. Their mascot was no 
longer a baby but a fighting bull. The protected had become a 
protector. Mammut’s calfhood came to a sudden end. But for 
all that, he was still the last calf. Xot one had appeared since 
the day of his birth. It would appear that he not only was but 
would remain the last. 

The original count of thirty-nine had narrowed down to 
twenty. Several individuals had become mired. To be mired was 
to die a lingering death, for no Mastodon dared risk his own life 
to aid an imprisoned comrade. It was not cowardice that 
prompted them to desert one of their own kind but the knowledge 
that such unfortunates were doomed and beyond all aid. Sickness 
took by far the heaviest toll. Sudden changes of climate brought 


209 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


on colds, rheumatism and other ailments. Trivial wounds festered 
and became fatal. Exposure and lack of proper nourishment 
undermined their constitutions, leaving them susceptible to the 
ravages of disease. One of the oldest animals went mad and ran 
screaming through the woods soon to hatter herself to death 
against the trees. Another perished in the drifts during a blizzard. 

Thus the Mastodons dropped off one by one. Finally Hasta 
became ill and her stomach would no longer retain nourishment. 
She weakened rapidly. She fell out of the line although still 
struggling on. One of the Herd dropped back too and marched 
behind her, pushing her forward with head and trunk. The one 
who pushed was Mammut. His childhood days were not entirely 
forgotten as he did his best to help the one who had watched over 
him so tenderly in the past. But Hasta was beyond all aid. For 
a time she struggled on hut finally her strength failed and she 
pitched forward to her knees. She was dead even as she swayed 
and rolled over upon her side. Mammut trumpeted a mournful 
dirge. He stood over her until certain that she was at rest forever 
and in no more need of his assistance; then he hurried on to rejoin 
the Herd. 

No words were said. The Mastodons marched on gloomy and 
silent. Hasta’s turn had come and there was no changing Fate’s 
decree. Mammut’s temple throbbed. His brain seethed with 
rebellion. Why was it that his mother, and those who had gone 
before her, were denied the right to that life which all the rest of 
the world was enjoying? What were the mysterious forces that 
wrought such havoc among his people? He would have rushed 
upon them and trampled them under foot had they hut presented 
themselves. But they were unknown forces that worked insidi¬ 
ously and unseen. He could do nothing and the knowledge en¬ 
raged even as it perplexed him. 


210 



AIDING WITH SIGHT AND SMELL TO WATCH OVER AND LEAD 

THE HERD 























































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


The count was now nineteen. Burbo’s eyesight began to fail; 
his power of scent became enfeebled. There were times when he 
stopped, uncertain of direction and too conscientious to lead 
blindly. He lost flesh and aged rapidly. Mammut observed these 
symptoms of gradual decline with much concern. Each day he 
shifted his position in the line, nearer and nearer to his ailing sire. 
Finally he walked shoulder to shoulder with the big bull, aiding 
him with his own sight and scent to watch over and lead the Herd. 

One morning, after the Mastodons had secured their night’s 
rest and were ready to proceed, Burbo did not rise. He crouched 
on elbows and knees with chin resting upon his forelimbs like one 
asleep. The Herd crowded about him trembling and venting their 
anxiety with subdued bellows. Mammut sniffed the prostrate 
figure. Burbo was dead. ' The young hull ground his teeth. 
Again the hidden enemy had struck. Every atom of his fighting 
Spirit arose in wrath to contend with that deadly foe which fought 
unseen. The Herd faced disaster. Now, they were without a 
leader at a time when one was most needed. All were lost unless 
a substitute could he found to take Burbo’s place. The cows 
stood huddled together, gazing helplessly at the dead giant. Hope 
had left them and they were resigned to despair. Suddenly the 
smallest of the Herd detached himself from the group and faced 
the shrinking cows. 

“Follow me,” he bellowed in a voice of authority. All looked 
up amazed. A champion had arisen to watch over them. Hope 
returned to quicken the heating of every dulled aching heart. 
Without a word, the cows fell obediently into line and marched 
briskly away behind their new leader—Mammut the stripling 
Mastodon. 

IV 

Five more years passed—five bitterly cold winters and as 
many hot, dry summers, which latter baked the meadow-land and 


212 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODOXS 


burned the grass into hard tough wire. The Herd was but a 
handful now; nine old withered cows and one vigorous young 
giant bull, their leader. 

Time had scored deeply in its final accounting of this once 
mighty race. Cold, drought, hunger and other destructive 
agencies had done their work thoroughly and well. Only ten 
Mastodons now survived to answer the last muster. 

And yet the count had stood at ten for several years. In that 
period, the Herd had suffered many hardships but it had incurred 
no further losses. Although facing extermination, the Mastodons 
seemed to be dying hard. 

For five years, the Herd had followed their new leader, now 
a sturdy giant; young in years, old in experience. Xo beast of 
hillside, forest or meadow dared stand for a test of strength and 
skill with the tusked fencing-master. Mammut was a fighter; but 
things had come to a pass where brains were needed far more 
than skill or brawn. 

The first two years of Mammut’s leadership were a determined 
effort on his part to grapple with the insidious forces that were 
slowly but surely accomplishing the Herd’s destruction. Pan¬ 
thers, wolves and such enemies could be fought and mastered; 
but there were other foes that worked unseen and drove the 
young Mastodon almost to his wit’s end. 

It finally dawned upon him that lack of proper nourishment 
and the extremes of climate were in reality the Herd’s most for¬ 
midable enemies. He discovered too that their food-supply de¬ 
pended mainly upon climate; in other words, mastodon troubles 
were all a matter of intense heat and bitter cold. Both worked 
great physical hardship; also they discouraged the growth of soft 
green food suitable for teat-crowned teeth. 

The fourth year of Mammut’s leadership found him and his 


218 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


charges in southern Michigan. They had passed an unusually 
comfortable summer there; but all green things had now begun 
to wither and the nights were intensely cold. A change of season 
was at hand. The time had come for the herd to move on. 

“Move on? Yes, but where?” Mammut asked himself. The 
cold seemed to blow down from the North. Winds which blew 
occasionally from the South, were as a rule much pleasanter. 
Where else to go hut away from the cold breezes and towards 
those which Mastodons most favored? Mammut guided his 
charges south. 

For a time it seemed to the young leader as though the direc¬ 
tion he had chosen promised little relief. Food was still scarce. 
The wind blowing from behind him grew colder each day; and 
yet, he was shrewd enough to note that he was going away from, 
not toward it. The time might come when it would change; so 
he kept on. Many other animals were moving in the same direc¬ 
tion as he; short-haired creatures and birds,too. If the Mastodon 
had misjudged, others had likewise misjudged; hut it appeared 
to him that the majority opinion was more likely to be right than 
wrong. 

Day after day the march continued, veering westerly to ac¬ 
commodate it to the southwesterly flow of the Wabash River. 
The Mastodons followed the line of this river and were therefore 
assured at all times of an ample water-supply suitable for bathing 
and drinking purposes. Gradually, almost imperceptibly the air 
grew balmier as they plodded on. Although dormant, the river 
vegetation was tender and nourishing. The Herd began to move 
on more leisurely and finally, after having journeyed many hun¬ 
dreds of miles, they settled down and proceeded to enjoy them¬ 
selves. 

There were none to tell them that they were now passing a 


214 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


comfortable winter in southern Illinois and that at the same time, 
the Great Lakes region lay prostrate beneath snowdrifts and 
bitter cold. It was enough to know that the fertile country north 

of the Ohio River was satisfactory as to food and climate: and so 

%/ * 

there they stayed. 

With the passing of many months, came discomforts resulting 
from a gradually rising temperature. Animals that had gone 
south with the Mastodons, began to drift back northward. The 
Winter had ended; Spring was at hand. Mammut knew not the 
why and wherefore of these climatic changes, but his judgment 
still favored the majority opinion. Back again he piloted the 
Herd to summer quarters in the North. The cool breezes were 
now pleasing where previously they had been displeasing. Mam¬ 
mut had begun to understand; now he knew: North in summer, 
south in Winter; face to the cold winds each Spring, back to 
them each Fall; and the Spring and Fall signs he learned, partly 
from the movements of other animals but more particularly from 
the contrasts in plant development, when the bare trees budded 
new leaves or when their foliage fluttered to earth in showers of 
golden yellow, red and brown. 

In this manner, Mammut acquired the migrating habit to 
replace the hitherto aimless roving about in search of food and 
bodily comfort. He shifted with the seasons; and each move was 
made in the right direction at the proper time. 

The summer which followed the Herd’s first northern migra¬ 
tion was an unusually hot and dry one. North and a bit more of 
it seemed to be in order, so Mammut ventured far up into Michi¬ 
gan where he and his companions were rewarded by a most com¬ 
fortable sojourn on the shores of Lake Huron. Fall was late in 
coming but when it did come, the sudden advent of cold breezes 
sent the Mastodons scurrying south in short order. 

215 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


For a time all went well. The Herd passed through Michi¬ 
gan safety and kept on to the headwaters of the Wabash River 
in Indiana. Here the country appeared to have undergone a 
marked change. This region had for some time been experienc¬ 
ing the greatest rainfall in its history. Day after day, the sun 
had remained hidden beneath great cloud banks, which poured 
forth their moisture incessantly. The ponds and lakes filled up 
until they could hold no more. Every creek and river overflowed 
its banks. The rainy season had ended when the Mastodons 
appeared there, but the lowlands of Indiana were still thor¬ 
oughly soaked. Before Mammut realized Iris mistake, he had 
guided the Herd into the very heart of a region abounding in 
bogs and sloughs. 

The young leader soon became aware of his predicament and 
called a halt. Traveling through such a nest of traps would never 
do. Mastodon feet were broad and well-suited for supporting 
great weight on soft ground, but it was straining a point to place 
too much dependence upon them in these rain-soaked lowlands 
of Central Indiana. Mammut surveyed his surroundings anx¬ 
iously. In the distance to the west the land-surface inclined 
gradually upward. Bogs and mires were less plentiful on high 
ground as compared with low, according to his experience. Again 
he ordered an advance, hut now, instead of south or southwest, 
his course was directed due west. 

Never did animal more carefully choose a path than did the 
young leader, now gingerly making his way over that sodden 
soil. He seemed to be walking on eggs, so deliberate and cau¬ 
tious were his steps. Suddenly a scream rang out in the distance 
behind him. He stopped and looked hack. Poor eyesight pre¬ 
vented his seeing the one who uttered that scream, hut its tone 
was familiar, and his nose told him that its author was an old- 


216 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


time enemy. He stamped his feet angrily and trumpeted a de¬ 
fiant call, which rang over the meadow and was answered by a 
second scream. The voice was that of a cougar. 

Mammut retraced several of his steps, even as his com¬ 
panions passed by him and moved on. He had rolled his trunk 
aloft and assumed a fighting posture—an absurd and useless per¬ 
formance, for no cougar lived who dared venture within range of 
a fighting elephant. The Herd need feel no anxiety about the 
skulking cat. Better had Mammut attended strictly to busi¬ 
ness, for now his companions had gone on without him. The 
latter was an unheard-of occurrence, hut the cows had become 
alarmed by the distant screams and were hurrying rapidly away. 

Mammut’s fighting spirit was now thoroughly aroused. His 
brain seethed with old memories of cat-screams and a scratched 
trunk. He waited, but no enemy appeared. This inaction on 
the cougar’s part exasperated him; but now he became aware that 
he was alone. He should be leading his charges instead of lag¬ 
ging behind, wasting his time with a cowardly cat. So he resumed 
his way, but even while doing so he could not refrain from trum¬ 
peting a last defiant call to the cougar far behind him. 

Better had he watched the lurking danger ahead than that 
which skulked behind. His caution slumbered and for the mo¬ 
ment he forgot all. Too late came the awakening. His feet 
suddenly sank into the treacherous ooze. The mire-demon seized 
him with sucking grip and held on like death. In vain Mammut 
strained and tugged. He was stuck fast. Here was no chance 
for him to make use of his great strength, and suddenly it flashed 
upon him that a Mastodon caught in the mire need expect no as¬ 
sistance from anyone. Would the Herd help him? He gazed in 
their direction despairingly; hut by this time they had passed 
over the high ground and were beyond sight or hearing. 


217 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


Vainly the mired Mastodon continued his struggles to free 
himself, and then, as though Fate were determined to permit 
him no chance to escape, rain began to fall, softly at first, but 
soon pouring down in torrents. Finding his efforts useless, Mam* 
mut ceased struggling. He was cold and exhausted, but as he 
rested and recovered his strength there came over him a wave of 
the old fighting spirit—the kind that fought with brain even 
more than brawn. 

The morass which gripped his limbs was a small one. He 
could almost touch its sides with his trunk. A single step forward 
and he would be safe. He attempted to pull one forelimb free 
and make that step. The effort shifted his weight to the hind 
limbs and they sank deeper. Try as he would he could pull 
neither one of them from the mire. It was like lifting oneself 
with one’s boot-straps. Mammut finally gave it up. His escape 
must be made in some other way. 

The morass was a ditch about twenty feet Mode, several rods 
long. Mammut stood like a bridge across this ditch, and in the 
center of a thick mass of rushes. If these latter were only trees; 
something substantial, his escape would have been an easy matter. 
He curled his trunk about a clump of these rushes in a vain effort 
to pull himself free. A single tug uprooted them. He flung 
them down in disgust. He repeated this performance, but with 
no better result. Mammut eyed the uprooted rushes gloomily. 
At the same time the thought was growing upon him that, al¬ 
though rushes might be too flimsy to cling to, they might be used 
in some way to support his weight. It seemed a forlorn hope, 
but he saw no other, and anything was worth trying. 

Night came on. The rain kept pouring down. The body of 
the mired Mastodon might have been mistaken for a large boul¬ 
der it stood so still. The head and trunk, however, were in con- 


218 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


stant motion among the rushes. They seemed to be thrashing 
about in the death agony, although there were no despairing 
shrieks nor dying groans. Finally head and trunk became quiet 
and the Mastodon lay or, rather, stood as one dead, his legs buried 
in the mire up to his knees and elbows. 

The rain stopped just as the night blackness began changing 
to morning gray. Mammut still breathed. As the darkness 
lifted and permitted a clear view, the morass appeared much 
changed. Most of the rushes had vanished, or rather they had 
been mysteriously uprooted and piled in a great heap beneath 
Mammut’s chin. The heap was much greater than appeared, for 
a large part of it had been packed down into the mire, forming a 
mat supporting the mass above it. 

The first gray streaks of dawn had no sooner appeared than 
the young bull took a deep breath and lowered his head until its 
full weight rested upon his chin and the green mat beneath it. 
The mat sank deeply as Mammut leaned forward and settled the 
entire front and heavier portion of his body upon it. The whole 
pit surface rocked beneath this tremendous shift of weight. 
Muddy ^vater shot up into Mammut’s face as his jaws settled 
down against his chest. The raft of rushes protested with loud 
gurgle and sighs, but it held firm. 

The Mastodon’s neck began to bulge. His hack and shoulder 
muscles rose up in huge knots as he strained forward. Cords and 
tendons tautened and became cables which threatened to erupt 
through his crinkled hide. The veins stood out upon his forehead 
like tree rootlets. His breath came loud and fast. The morass 
trembled to its bottom as the huge elephant challenged it to a test 
of strength; but still it held on. It was as though the captive s 
feet were clutched by the sucking tentacles of an octopus de- 


219 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


termined to retain its death grip and not permit such noble prey 

to escape. 

But Mammut’s power was now being applied to good advan¬ 
tage, with an even greater grim resolve urging it on. It was a 
test of strength between giants—Mire versus Mastodon. The 
two forces directly opposed each other and at first no apparent 
motion resulted, then gradually the tide turned in favor of the 
determined Mastodon. Not for an instant did his tense muscles 
relax. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, one hind leg emerged from 
the engulfing slime. A loud, sucking sigh and the foot came 
clear for a forward step. The other hind limb was treated in the 
same slow and labored way. The struggle then shifted to the 
front limbs. Trunk and tusks were still anchored on the green 
mat which, as a point of leverage, had thus far performed its part 
well. One after the other the two front limbs were freed and ad¬ 
vanced. This was accomplished only after tremendous exertion, 
for the mire demon held on to the last, straining desperately to 
retain its hold. The advance, small as it was, brought Mam¬ 
mut’s trunk and tusks within reach of the pit rim and solid 
ground. His main task was now completed, although to make 
escape certain he must repeat his first performance and make 
another advance. This he did after what seemed to him an 
eternity of squirming and heaving. Slowly, painfully, hut 
surely he dragged himself out of the trap. The mire demon 
sighed and groaned, then settled hack an inert mass as though 
acknowledging itself beaten and content to take no further part 
in the tremendous struggle. 

Once clear of the morass, Mammut turned his attention to the 
western hills. 

The Herd had gone in that direction. It vexed him to think 
that they would go without him; hut perhaps it was just as well 


220 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


that they had not lingered in the low boggy country. Now he 
must hurry after and find them. Although tired and sore, he 
allowed himself no rest but set off at once past the last of the 
quagmires and up the sloping firmer ground. When he reached 
the end and top of it, he saw before him a broad expanse of roll¬ 
ing country. A line of trees extended across the horizon. The 
Herd was nowhere to be seen. A bitter disappointment, for he 
had expected that somewhere on this broad elevation his comrades 
would surely be waiting for him. They had been there. Their 
great footprints were plainly visible in the rain-soaked ground; 
but they had passed on. The trail pointed toward the distant line 
of trees. 

Mammut began to experience feelings of uneasiness. The 
Herd was without a leader. They were a handful of timid old 
animals and would soon he getting into difficulties with no master 
mind to watch over them. He hurried on at his best gait to over¬ 
take them. 

As he lumbered over the slippery ground another feeling came 
over him to add to his anxiety. It began to dawn upon him that 
he w r as alone. The thought gave him keen mental discomfort. 
He needed companionship as much as the Herd needed his 
leadership. He was beginning to think it a very dreadful thing 
to be alone and without friends. 

As he approached the line of trees he heard a low hum which 
gradually increased to a muffled roar as he drew nearer. It was 
not a noise made by Mastodons, but something else, and yet it 
came from where he expected the Herd would be. Mammut 
felt a sense of impending calamity. He quickened his pace and 
charged through the line of trees. 

The roaring noise became deafening. The Mastodon caught 
glimpses of waves and dashing spray as he crashed his way 


221 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


through the woods. In a few moments he had emerged into the 
open and stood upon the bank of a river, once the peaceful Wa¬ 
bash, now become a raging torrent. The night rain, flowing from 
every one of its tributaries, had filled it to the brim. In a few 
hours the modest stream had become a mighty engine of destruc¬ 
tion. Great trees torn from their anchorage by the driving flood, 
were hurled about upon the tossing billows like straws. Waves 
jostled one another or collided in showers of spray as all strove at 
the same time to find passage for themselves down the onrushing 
current. 

It was a tremendous spectacle to look upon; an inferno of 
sound to listen to. Mammut shrank back appalled. The Herd 
had perished there! He could see their tracks leading to the river 
—none from it. And then, as he stood trembling with anxiety 
and great dread, a voice rang out above his head. He turned and 
looked up. There, on a low-hanging branch, crouched a gray- 
furred animal 'with a bushy tail and fox-like face. It was Lotor 
the Raccoon. 

“One more,” chattered the little beast. “But he who lags 
need expect no favors. The others have crossed, but now you 
must await your turn.” 

“Crossed? How?” Mammut felt as though the world had 
been lifted off his back. The Herd was safe then. His anxiety 
was relieved. 

“They swam across,” Lotor replied. “It was easy to swim 
across before this flood came; but look at it now.” 

Mammut looked again. He suddenly felt so light-hearted 
that he could view the roaring river from a much altered stand¬ 
point. It was indeed a terrifying spectacle, hut now he could 
enjoy it, for the Herd had crossed in safety. 

For Some time the Mastodon and Raccoon gazed in silence 


222 



MAMMUT MEETS LOTOR, THE RACCOON 























































STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


at the remarkable scene. Never had Mammut gazed upon any¬ 
thing more wonderful. But at last he had his fill of it. The 
Herd awaited him somewhere among the trees on the opposite 
shore. He was now ready to move on. 

He descended the bank and put one forefoot in the water. 
Lotor on the branch above him chattered loudly and danced about 
on the limb w T hen he saw what Mammut was doing. 

“Have a care!” he shrieked. “If you go any nearer to that 
water you will be drowned.” 

Mammut paused. The words of the Raccoon sounded in his 
ears like death. To attempt a passage of the river in its present 
swollen condition would be the act of a fool courting destruction. 
He sickened with disappointment. Yes, he must wait before 
he could rejoin the Herd. They were so near, and yet so very far 
away. 

For the whole of a long day and night, too, he chafed and 
fretted with none but Lotor and the roaring flood to bear him 
company. Finally, when lie had become half-crazed with impa¬ 
tience, the slowly-subsiding waters permitted him to pass. After 
an exhausting swam through the swift current, he landed far be¬ 
low the point from where he started. Here he began a frantic 
search for the missing Herd. But now he had lost the trail and, 
try as he would, he could not find it. In vain he dashed here and 
there with nose to earth. No trace could he smell or see. 

Mammut halted to collect his scattered wits. His anxiety 
was approaching panic. His hopes were dashed, and now the 
gloom of the woods weighed upon his brain like lead. It was a 
terrible feeling, this loneliness. He felt that he would go mad 
if he did not soon find his herd. Then the thought of what they, 
in their turn, might be undergoing, sobered him. Their predica¬ 
ment was even worse than his. He could take care of himself; 


224 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 

but now they had none to watch over them and guide them the 
right way. 

The Herd had been traveling in a westerly direction. Prob¬ 
ably they still held to it. Mammut headed west, battering his way 
through the trees into the open. A flood of warm sunlight wel¬ 
comed him. 

Before, and on both sides of him, appeared a vast, gently- 
rolling plain. It extended to the distant horizon. It seemed 
destitute of life. Except for a clump of bushes in the foreground, 
there was not a single object to be seen upon its surface. As 
Mammut strained for a glimpse or scent of his companions, he 
saw several of the bushes move. He bellowed with joy. The 
bushes were animals, Mastodons, no doubt—his Herd. The sight 
was enough to fill the lonely Mastodon’s heart almost to bursting. 
With a scream of rapture he galloped forward at full speed. In 
a few moments he and his companions would again be united. All 
seemed to have gone well with them during his few days’ absence, 
but just the same he w r as grimly determined that never again 
would he permit them out of his sight. “They need their leader,” 
he thought; “and I need a Herd.” Now that they had suffered 
no harm he was also thinking that the brief period of separation 
had given him by far the worst of it. 

He was rapidly nearing his goal. All of his companions were 
there aw T aiting him. Their heads were lowered. It seemed to 
Mammut that they had grown smaller; their legs were thin and 
peculiar-looking. He slowed up to a trot and took a long whiff 
of them through his nose. The odor was not Mastodon. He 
came to a sudden halt as the truth dawned upon him. This was 
not his herd. These trunkless, tuskless creatures, with spindly 
legs, were something else. 

Mammut stood gazing upon them appalled by his overwhelm- 


225 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

ing disappointment. For an instant the Bison herd, with horns 
lowered, returned his gaze, then, with one accord, all turned and 
fled like the wind. Away they sped, an avalanche of shaggy 
bodies and galloping hoofs, not once stopping to look behind 
them. 

Gradually the flying mass merged with the western horizon, 
and only a haze of dust remained to mark the direction of its 
flight. Finally the haze floated away, leaving the plains abso¬ 
lutely bare of stirring life; even the tusked giant standing mo¬ 
tionless with eyes straining westward—the lone Mastodon without 
a herd. 

V 

For several long, weary days Mammut tramped up and down 
through the woods and over the meadows along the west bank of 
the Wabash, searching for clues that might lead to the Herd’s 
discovery. Not for a single moment did he relax; resting at night 
with ears alert to catch the faintest sound, and on the go all day 
with a persistence that never faltered. 

The weather grew gradually colder. Fall was at hand; Win¬ 
ter would soon follow; and now was the time to journey south. 
But Mammut had no herd to lead south. Would his companions 
remember to go there of their own accord? Surely they would 
do so from mere force of habit, if nothing else. The thought gave 
him much comfort. They would go south; in fact, he was now 
convinced that they had already gone south. He even scolded 
himself because he had not before given them credit for that much 
common sense. They had secured almost a week’s start and must 
now be far ahead of him. All seemed clear to Mammut, once he 
had thought the matter out, so he hurried southward, only to 
meet with disappointment the whole way, for search as he would 


226 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


not a single Mastodon sign was to be found. He had misjudged. 
The herd had not preceded him, after all; otherwise they would 
have left some trail for him to smell or see. Although taken 
aback, he now encouraged himself with fresh hopes. “I was only 
partly right,” he argued. “The Herd did not turn south as soon 
as I expected. Something must have delayed them. I must be 
patient and wait, for they will soon be here.” 

He halted before a large pond where he found food and drink. 
Here he waited. Day after day passed, and still no sign of his 
missing companions. Although weary and heartsick, he refused 
to give up all hope. Whenever a chill voice whispered in his ear: 
“The Herd has gone north. You will never see them again,” he 
would silence it with, “No, south. They will come in good time.” 

Various animals passing by halted to investigate the great 
tusked giant standing by the shore of the pond. In his loneli¬ 
ness Mammut would have turned to them for companionship and 
consolation, but they mistook the true meaning of his overtures 
and hurried fearfully away. These were migrants from the north, 
fleeing before the approaching winter to seek food and warmth 
in a more temperate climate. Not one of them dared stand before 
the Mastodon, who, had they but known it, felt enmity toward 
none and was merely seeking the companionship he sorely craved. 
Finalty, a flock of ducks flying down from the north, alighted 
upon the waters of the pond. Mammut saw them and became 
interested. They were a flock of birds; but any gathering of 
sociable creatures was interesting, even though it served only to 
remind him of his own enforced solitude. The flock numbered 
several dozen, all Mallards, and their leader was a big, strapping 
drake. The latter attracted Mammut’s particular attention. Be¬ 
ing the leader of a herd—or rather a flock—the drake felt his re¬ 
sponsibilities. He had chosen the pond as a good place to round 

227 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

up his followers before resuming the flight south. Mammut 
heard him say: 

“Not here yet. Those ducks make me so angry. They are 
always late.” 

“Quack, quack,” his companions responded in chorus. 

The stragglers began to drop in one by one. Finally five or 
six more were added to the flock. The big drake was about to 
give the signal to depart when another duck descended with a 
splash that sent the water flying all over him. “Sss-s! quack, 
quack,” he sputtered in a great rage. Then his ire softened as 
the newcomer sidled up to him and gave him a coy, admiring 
glance. He raised his head proudly and fluffed his feathers with 
studied carelessness as though he had no idea how fine and gaudy 
they were. 

“Always the last one. You are enough to try a coot’s pa¬ 
tience.” He strove to speak harshly, hut with those soulful eyes 
taking note of his gorgeous array it was so easy to forgive and 
forget. “Now follow me closely, every one of you,” he com¬ 
manded; “and please remember that there is to he no stopping 
anywhere until I give the word. Now we are all here. Are you 
ready?” 

He was preparing to leap from the water when a loud snort 
made him pause. The sound came from the neighboring bank. 
There stood a huge motionless figure, whose color was much in 
harmony with the surrounding scenery. The big Mallard was 
not in the habit of paying much attention to motionless,, colorless 
objects, or he would have seen it before. However, it was so 
large no one could help noticing it now that it had made a noise. 

“S-s-s!” he hissed. “How did the big tiling happen here? I 
must look into this. The rest of you stay where you are while I 
investigate.” 


228 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


These remarks, as well as the ones previously made, amused 
Mammut greatly. He remained motionless, watching the big 
drake swimming toward him. The bird came on haltingly, pad¬ 
dling from side to side as though timid about taking too bold and 
straight a course. He was consumed with curiosity to learn 
more of the huge animal that had no color and did not move, but 
who made a noise. As though knowing he was tantalizing the 
other, Mammut kept perfectly still and uttered no more sounds. 
Meanwhile the drake tacked and jibed, all the time drawing 
nearer. He was like a needle being attracted to a magnet. When 
about ten yards separated him from the motionless giant, he ob¬ 
served the latter’s white tusks and stopped paddling. “What are 
you doing there?” he quacked. 

Mammut’s eyes twinkled. All animals had previously fled 
at sight of him. None had shown the slightest interest in his wel¬ 
fare; but here was a plain, everyday duck demanding an account¬ 
ing of his actions, just as saucy as you please. 

“I was watching you and your friends,” he chuckled. “They 
seem to give you no end of trouble. How would you like to have 
me help you lead your flock?” 

Unfortunately the drake could not see a joke. His skull was 
not split four ways at the top. His bump of humor never had a 
chance to grow. 

“Lead my flock? Queer idea that,” he remarked soberly. 
“Why, only a duck could do it. I am sure you couldn’t. You 
have no wings.” 

“Of course not,” Mammut replied. “NoMastodon has; but 
you ought to see me swim.” 

“Swim? Well, now; really.” The drake appeared much per¬ 
plexed. He remained silent for several moments, staring at the 
water before him. “No, it wouldn’t do at all,” he finally blurted 


229 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


out. “Besides, I don’t need any help. Why don’t you get a flock 
of your own—beasts like yourself?” 

Mammut’s head drooped. “There are none,” he replied 
gloomily. “I am alone, without a friend in the world.” 

“No friends?” asked the drake in surprise. “Now that is un¬ 
fortunate. I would die if I had to fly about the country alone. 
You may be sure I would not stand around like you, doing noth¬ 
ing. If you need friends, why don’t you stir yourself and find 
some?” 

“There are no Mastodons here,” Mammut answered wearily. 
“I have hunted for them high and low, but none are to be found.” 

“None here, perhaps,” said the drake; “but there are some 
where I came from. I know, because I saw them.” 

“You saw them?” Mammut’s heart hounded within him. 
“Where?” he asked eagerly. 

The drake pointed his bill northward. “There,” he quacked. 
“I passed over them only yesterday. There were not many of 
them, but all were huge creatures just like you.” 

Mammut trembled with joy. The drake’s words had sud¬ 
denly raised him from the depths of despair to a seventh heaven 
of delight. 

“Only yesterday?” he squealed. “Then they must be very 
near me.” He beamed; he flapped his ears excitedly. The drake 
was about to speak, but Mammut’s brain was in a ferment and he 
rambled on like one talking to himself: 

“I felt that they were near me and that was all I had to 
brighten my loneliness. It seems so very long ago that we be¬ 
came separated. It is a dreadful thing, this being separated from 
one’s friends.” 

The drake nodded his head emphatically. He said nothing; 
but it was evident by his manner that he fully agreed. 


230 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


“The mire came between us,” the Mastodon continued. “I 
was careless and did not see. I should have been leading the 
Herd. I should he leading them now. They are timid animals 
and need me to watch over and fight for them. But now that you 
have told me where they may be found I must go to them at once. 
Every moment they are in danger; and, as for me, I am so 
lonely I wish I would die.” 

He was turning away when he heard a loud “Quack, quack!” 
behind him. He stopped and looked back. 

“You need not be in such a hurry,” snapped the big Mallard. 
“You’ll be lonely all the rest of your life if you don’t listen and 
be sensible.” 

“I am listening,” Mammut replied. “But be quick, for I must 

go. 

“You have a long, long journey before you,” the drake began. 

“But you saw my Herd only yesterday.” 

“A short journey for me, but a long one for you,” said the big 
Mallard, shaking his head dubiously as he glanced at the Masto¬ 
don’s post-like limbs. “I fly faster than the strongest wind. Your 
speed is that of a turtle compared with mine. Your friends are 
indeed very far awa} 7 .” 

Mammut’s heart sank. Then, with a mighty effort, he recov¬ 
ered himself. “No matter,” he said determinedly. “How long? 
How far must I go?” 

“Until the snowdrifts pile in your path like mountains and the 
waters harden like stone. If you live through this you will find 
yourself in the country of the Deer Moose beyond the Biver of 
the Plains. Your friends are there.” Having delivered himself 
of these parting instructions, the drake swam back to his flock and 
the Mastodon turned northward. 


231 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 

The cold wind blew in Mammut’s face. He set his teeth 
grimly. This was no time to be going north, he knew; but the 
Herd was in danger and he must hurry to them. It would be a 
hard journey, but he must get to them and lead them back to the 
southern country. He dreaded the return journey more than the 
one now before him. It must be made in the dead of winter. 
Could the Herd do it? They must. His brows contracted with 
determination as he hurried on. 

Day after day he plodded his weary way. The cold wind, 
blowing in his face, grew colder, until the steam of his labored 
breathing gathered upon his trunk and forehead in a mantle of 
hoarfrost. The ground creaked and groaned and the swamp- 
tussocks became as hard as cobblestones. No danger of being 
mired in frozen soil, so the Mastodon drove over the bogs and low¬ 
lands at a tremendous pace. His stops were few; brief halts for 
restless sleep and poor nourishment, barely enough to keep him 
alive and moving. It was on, on and ever on. The fat melted 
from his body. His hide bagged and wrinkled over his big¬ 
boned frame. He ached and hungered. He grew morose and 
vicious beneath his burden of suffering. He lost all of his sociable 
nature. He had no quarrel with anyone, but there was in his look 
and manner that which warned all to stand aside and give him 
the right of way. For such animals as he passed he had neither 
frown nor greeting. On, on he drove against the North Wind. 
Then came the snow, thick driving snow which piled up in great 
drifts and dragged hard on the Mastodon’s weary feet. His 
speed slackened. Waist-deep, he floundered desperately through 
the drifts like a huge snowplow, advancing by inches where be¬ 
fore he had advanced by rods. 

Now that Winter had spread its cold white mantle over 
northern Illinois, many creatures began to feel the hunger-pinch. 

232 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


It was the season, too, when all manner of hunting-animals 
roamed the forest searching foi deer, moose, elk and other vege¬ 
table-eaters that might be attacked to advantage while staggering 
about helplessly in the snow. 

Can, the Timber Wolf—a long-legged bristling giant—came 
upon the Mastodon’s trail yet warm and full of scent. Raising 
his head on high, he bayed the signal, calling together the Wolf 
Pack of Theakiki for the hunt. Over hill and ravine they came, 
racing full cry, howling like fiends. Once assembled, they were 
off like the wind, their broad, whiskered feet serving as snow- 
shoes to carry them swiftly over the snow crust. Mammut was 
ploughing his way slowly through the drifts when faint sounds 
were borne to his ears. It was an uninterrupted chorus of howls 
becoming louder at every moment. He stopped and looked be¬ 
hind him. A score or more of gaunt shaggy forms were speeding 
toward him through the woods. On they came, mouths wide 
open, displaying their cruel teeth and blood-red tongues. 

“Wolves!” grunted Mammut scornfully. He was thinking 
of the Pack of Minster and how he, a baby, had routed the cow¬ 
ardly lot of them single-handed. So he turned his back upon 
them and resumed his way. 

But the Timber Wolves of Theakiki were of far greater cali¬ 
ber than those of Minster or others the Mastodon had met with. 
Surprise, rather than fear, held them back at first. They saw 
neither elk nor moose, but a huge monster with horns growing 
from its mouth; also it was a veritable mountain of flesh, so said 
their noses, therefore a godsend to a score of warped and empty 
stomachs. The fierce brutes crowded closely on Mammut’s flanks 
and rear. Can strode in the van close to the Mastodon’s left 
shoulder. He crept nearer and nearer. The Pack watched him 
closely, awaiting their big leader’s spring as the signal to dash in. 


233 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


Mammut jogged on, apparently paying little attention to his 
unwelcome visitors. But with all his seeming indifference, he kept 
his eye on Can and bided his time cunningly. The big wolf edged 
closer. Another moment and he would have sprung, when sud¬ 
denly the Mastodon’s trunk shot at him with the swiftness of a 
python’s thrust and seized him by the middle. One agonized 
howl and Can vanished beneath the ponderous feet. The next 
moment he reappeared, whirled aloft a limp and bloody mass, and 
was flung over Mammut’s back to the Pack behind him. 

The wolves recoiled. The sudden and terrible end of their 
leader, together with the giant’s strength and quickness, was not 
lost upon them. They set upon the body of the slain wolf and 
devoured it in short order, but they followed the Mastodon no 
more. 

Mammut kept on. After several days more of pounding 
through the drifts he descended a long, wind-swept slope and 
stood upon the bank of a broad stream. This must be the River 
of the Plains. He waded and swam through it, breaking up the 
ice with trunk and tusks until finally he reached the other side. 

Although chilled to the bone, and so exhausted he could 
scarcely stand, he gathered himself together and made a careful 
survey of the country before him. This was the land of the Deer 
Moose. His friends must be somewhere near. The ground in 
front of him to the west inclined upward and terminated in a 
ridge several miles long. His spirits soared to the heavens as he 
marched as fast as he could toward it. He fussed and fumed 
because it obstructed his view of what must be behind it—a herd 
of Mastodons, his Herd. The thought urged him on to greater 
speed. His breath came in gasps; his heart pounded like a ham¬ 
mer, but he would not slacken his pace. Now that his goal was 
so nearly reached, he forgot to think how very tired he was. His 


234 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


anxiety and loneliness would soon be relieved, and then the hard¬ 
ships he had undergone would be cast aside and forgotten. 

He wished that he were a bird and could fly over and look 
behind that ridge which seemed so far off and stood there forever 
in his way. He heaved and strained, panting with excitement 
and his exertions, and after what seemed to him an age he reached 
the crest and gazed eagerly beyond. He saw a broad valley be¬ 
neath him. One side of it was in part the ridge on which he stood. 
On the other side was high ground as far as he could see. Snow, 
snow, everywhere; here and there were small clumps of trees. 
All was bleak and bare. To Mammut it seemed a Valiev of 
Death, for he saw no living animal within it, and worst of all, no 
Mastodons. Pointing his trunk to windward, he sought that 
which his eves could not see. Vainly he searched the vallev—no 
news. The Herd was not there. 

Keen was his disappointment; the reaction, overwhelming. 
His body crumpled up within his bagged and wrinkled hide. He 
stood upon the ridge, silhouetted against the sky and risible for 
miles around—an image of despair. And yet—an idea came to 
fill him with renewed hope. Perhaps he had not gone far enough. 
The Herd might have shifted, too. They were not such fools as 
to stand forever in one place, particularly in that valle} T of death. 
They must be in the higher forested country beyond it. 

Mammut recovered his spirits and, having recovered some of 
his wind and strength, too, he felt better. He descended into the 
valley, crossed it and ascended the other side. Disappointment 
again. He saw nothing but snow, rolling ground and scattered 
groups of trees; also an occasional crow and rabbit; but no Masto¬ 
dons. Again he lost hope. He strove to shake off his weariness 
of heart, body and brain, but without success. Now that he de¬ 
spaired, his unnourished body rose in rebellion against the iron 


235 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


will that had so long driven it mercilessly on. Mammut was 
forced to heed. Cold, famished and exhausted, he crept on to a 
patch of woods bordering a creek—the Aux Sable—and sought 
refuge among the trees. 

Night Frost with his bitter tooth sought and found the Masto¬ 
don hidden in the W'oods. Mammut stood there shivering. He 
scarcely retained strength enough to stamp his feet and thrash his 
trunk about to warm himself. Gradually his muscles relaxed, his 
eyes closed and he relapsed into deep drowsiness. Slowly the 
clouds above rolled away, leaving the sky all blue and clear and 
dotted with myriads of twinkling stars. The moon rose high and 
full, casting its sun-mockery upon the numbed earth. The air 
was lifeless. Not a breath stirred bush or branch. The moon- 
rays penetrated the woods and cast a ghastly glare upon the great 
tusked figure standing there, motionless. They brushed aside the 
hand of the Frost Death and smote upon the Mastodon’s fore¬ 
head. 

In his confused moments preceding awakening, Mammut 
sensed the brilliant glare. He heard a voice calling. He opened 
his eyes and blinked at the moon which shone directly in his face. 
The air was deathly still—a mask to hide its bitterness. He tried 
to stretch his limbs, but they were as numb as four wooden posts. 
His feet too felt like nothing. They were almost frozen to the 
ground. 

Mammut roused himself with a mighty effort and shook off the 
drowsiness that had so nearly made an end of him. Slowly and 
painfully, he coiled and uncoiled his trunk and stamped his feet 
until they no longer felt like dead weights. The mist cleared 
from Ills brain, and then sounded once more the voice of his 
awaking moments. 

“A Mastodon—and alive 1” 


236 



MAMMUT MEETS THE DEER MOOSE 













STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


Mammut looked up with a start. Not ten paces distant stood 
a long-legged, moose-like creature with a deer’s face and a won¬ 
derful crown of three-palmed antlers. “Who are you?” he 
asked. 

“The Deer Moose.” 

“The Deer Moose? Then I have found you at last,” bel¬ 
lowed Mammut in astonishment and great joy. “You alone can 
tell me where my people are. Lead me to them, for soon we must 
be on our way to the warmer country. You see, I am their 
leader. It was long ago that we became separated. Now I am 
here and will guide them to the land of safety.” 

The Deer Moose was silent for a few moments. He stared at 
his broad hoofs as though dreading to meet the other’s eager gaze. 

“You are too late,” he said finally. 

“Too late?” Mammut’s heart almost stopped beating. His 
body was as cold as ice. 

“Yes, the Mastodons are here; but all are dead. When the 
leaves withered they sickened; when the snow came they died. Not 
one remains but yourself. You are the last.” 

The blow staggered Mammut. His limbs shook until he 
seemed about to fall. The blood rushed to his temples. His 
heart raced madly; then the tempest within subsided and he shud¬ 
dered as an icy chill crept over him. He stared at the snow, the 
trees, the sky, but saw nothing. The end of everything had come, 
for the Herd had perished and now he was alone. He said noth¬ 
ing more. Speech and reason left him. He made no effort to 
move, for now there was no place to go. The Deer Moose 
watched him anxiously. Mammut watched the Deer Moose. 
The latter moved off several steps. Mammut followed and 
stopped when the other stopped. Daylight came. The Deer 


238 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 


Moose sought his breakfast of inner tree bark. Mammut did 
likewise. The Deer Moose marched to the Aux Sable and drank. 
Mammut followed and drank. The Mastodon repeated every 
motion of the Deer Moose, clinging desperately to this last straw 
of companionship like an inseparable shadow. All that day it 
was the same. When night came Mammut huddled up close to 
his new-found friend like a yearling calf seeking its mother’s 
warmth and comfort. Before long he was sleeping as peacefully 
as a babe. 

It was midnight when the Deer Moose heard in his dreams a 
voice calling him from on high. He awoke and gazed at the 
heavens. The North Star was blinking and pointing. It called, 
it urged, so he stole softly away. 

In the morning Mammut awoke and found himself alone. 
The Deer Moose had disappeared. With a scream, he plunged 
into the woods, searching frantically for his missing companion. 
Vainly he searched, his uneasiness increasing to wild excitement 
as he found no sign. The forest resounded with his loud bellows, 
which brought no answer but the mocking echoes of his own voice. 
He became desperate, and his dulled mind flashed forth blind, 
furious rage. 

Mammut was alone. His was a sociable nature and of his 
kind none but rogues lived alone. A rogue was a mad elephant, 
usually an old disgruntled animal. Mammut was not old, al¬ 
though he now looked anything but a young bull. But with his 
last shred of companionship torn from him, something bid his 
weary brain kill, trample and destroy. He listened and heeded 
and became an avenging rogue—a Mastodon gone stark, raving 
mad. 

He stormed through the woods like a hurricane charging upon 
every living thing that crossed his path. A group of deer took 


239 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


one look at the onrushing giant and fled in terror before him. 
Above his head, on an oak branch, crouched a panther whining 
softly in awful fear. The Aux Sable Wolf Pack scattered before 
the mad fury like leaves blown by the wind. A flock of crows 
flapped away screaming as the maniac battered his way among 
the trees. Every denizen of the woods hastened to make himself 
scarce as Mammut raged and tore, seeking ones upon whom to 
vent his wrath. All morning he dashed back and forth, only to 
find the woods finally deserted, for it was now known that a 
rogue Mastodon had invaded the country of the Aux Sable, and 
he had best be left alone. 

That afternoon he grew quieter—a relapse due to exhaustion 
and failing health. His blind rage subsided into morose dullness. 
He ate nothing; drank nothing. Hark clouds came rolling down 
from the northeast, bringing with them snow-flurries and biting 
wind. Mammut crept among the trees bordering Aux Sable 
Creek and endeavored to find shelter from the increasing cold. 

Here the Wolf Pack awaited the big Mastodon. A raging 
rogue was one thing; a sick and dying elephant another; and now, 
emboldened by winter hunger, they stole softly up to the tusked 
giant standing with head bowed low among the trees. 

Mammut saw not, but his nose gave him sudden warning of 
the approaching danger. With a loud bellow he backed rapidly 
away as the red-mouthed furies rushed at him from all sides. 
The Aux Sable was behind him. In he dashed for his last stand. 
The ice gave way beneath his feet. He halted in the shallow 
water as the wolves came howling and snarling to the attack, and 
stood waiting with trunk rolled aloft and tusks pointed forward. 
Suddenly there flashed through his mind the memory of earlier 
and better days. He was again the young fighting bull facing the 
Wolf Pack of Minster. He screamed a defiant challenge just 

240 


THE LAST OF THE MASTODONS 

as the foremost wolves dashed into the water and leaped upon 
him. 

In an instant the creek became an inferno of struggling crea¬ 
tures half concealed beneath showers of bloody foam and spray. 
Mammut rushed into the midst of his enemies with his last flash 
of furious strength. With trunk and tusks he struck and jabbed, 
while his huge feet ground one writhing body after another into 
the creek’s rocky bed. His strength was failing fast, but no 
faster than the courage and number of his foes. One final labored 
sweep of the great tusks and the last wolf was either dead or 
following his flying companions in a mad dash through the woods 
to escape the Mastodon’s wrath. 

The waters of the Aux Sable relapsed into their former quiet 
and Mammut stood alone amid heaps of broken ice and lifeless 
furry forms. The fire faded from his eyes, his head drooped and 
he swayed upon his shaking limbs like one about to fall. Slowly 
he waded ashore and staggered up the bank. He was weary unto 
death, he could scarcely control his muscles, and he was very, very 
cold. The 'wind blew harder from the northeast, bending the tree- 
tops before it. 

Mammut crawled through the underbrush and sank to his 
knees as the storm fast gathering, whistled among the branches 
above him. The snow came driving down, first in scattered 
flakes, then in a furious cloud, covering everything as with a white 
mantle. It covered the Mastodon until the cold wind no longer 
chilled him to the bone. With warmth came a feeling of peace 
and comfort such as he had not experienced for many a day. 

His brain gradually cleared and he had visions. He was 
gazing at a luxuriant landscape; green-covered lowlands border¬ 
ing a forest, through which wound a peaceful stream—all beneath 
a bright blue sky. A herd of Mastodons was moving about on 


241 


STORIES of the FIRST AMERICAN ANIMALS 


the lowlands and among the trees—huge tuskers, cows and many 
calves, all as plump and happy as anyone could be. The young¬ 
sters frolicked with each other, while the grown-ups stopped feed¬ 
ing from time to time to look on. All were so joyous and care¬ 
free that it made a picture well worth going far to see. 

Suddenly a great bull-tusker emerged from the group. He 
was followed by a cow with a roly-poly calf trotting by her side. 
“Burbo! Hasta!” Mammut called out. There was no answer but 
the whistling of wind through the tree-tops and the faint rustling 
of driving snow. All grew dark as Mammut sank lower beneath 
his white winding sheet and drifted peacefully away into *he land 
of sleep that knows no waking. 


THE END 


242 



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